Porch Light

You told me yesterday about the porch light,

burned out, you said, but today as I left

for work it was shining. I barely remember

passing as you stood beside the globe

bulb in hand. It's the small things

that reveal the heart. The lasting imprint

of the insignificant event. Like once when

you thanked me for packing up the car

while you napped or meditated or took a last

walk on the beach. Who remembers? And I