The Only Door for Miles Around

I opened a door in the wilderness

flung it wide against the sky

for you to step through.

And I waited.

I watched.

Some days I peered around

the door frame up and down the

crumbled adobe walls and

across the sunny plain

looking for your shimmer

indistinct on the horizon.

Some days it rains and

the entry-room floods when

the wind blows the rain into

the doorway. Sometimes it doesn’t

rain for months and dunes

start to form and spill over the

step and across the floor.

I would rather sweep them

out than close the door

again. I keep buckets handy

for when the rains come.

But I stopped looking out the

door a long time ago.

It is open now, simply

for the light.