Alan laughed through his cigar
released the bow string
the arrow shot into the clouds
and vanished.
Without surprise
he returned to the fire
letting the bow dangle
from his finger.
The sound of water boiling reminded him
of a morning in Berlin
the kitchen
bread, cheese, jam
by the window
Judith making coffee on the hob
patterns of blue wool
about her waist.
Somehow coffee had always tasted like burnt almonds since
though Miho sent him enough green tea from Japan
to last several lifetimes.
Green tea in a green forest.
Alan shut his eyes, let the breeze touch his cheeks
and smiled.
“I’ve a question.”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too young. And I’m God.”