Morning Has Arrived Late.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the puzzle remained

that night i went out of the house
made a stroll

feeling the coldness of the wind
the hollowness of the
plaza

as all had gone to their houses
to sleep

i was the only one perhaps
perchance awake trying to make
a conversation with the poplars

my professor in philosophy once
said that trees talk to
lonely people

as they too are bored unable
to take a stroll
towards another mountain.

i am searching for explanations
how lonely people come about
how some have failed utterly to
deal with it
taking their own lives as though
these lives are their own

i walked past midnight
morning had arrived late.