Coming Back

By David M. Alper

His feet touch earth, and the soil recalls his heft,

every step a soft murmur of unwilling return. The

sky unmoved, extends its azure stretch above

fields that once held the promise of flight.

The trail now unfolds in front of him, a

string of certainty twisting through the scenery of

recollection. Blades bow, noting his journey like

the trail left by a vessel on the ocean. He totes

optimism like small stones in his coat smoothed

by the wear of years and wishes. They tap

together, a soft refrain of maybes and

could-haves. The skyline shimmers, an illusion of

chuckles yet to arise when this trek will be shared

again with a wry grin, the hurt of coming back

eased by time. But now, each pace is a minor

giving in, each inhale a sigh that moves

through the air, stirring specks that float in the

slanted glow of dusk. He presses on, the arrow of

time breaking through his unwillingness, and the

earth spins unconcerned with his arrival, with the

tale playing out in slow tough steps.

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David M. Alper is a high school AP English teacher in New York City, residing in Manhattan. His work appears in Variant Literature, The McNeese Review, Oxford Magazine, and elsewhere.