Phebe Davidson, Azrael at His Ease
AZRAEL AT HIS EASE
The view from where he sits is limited but clear.
Sun shines in this third sky. He has chosen his blind
with care. He is, from an earthly point of view,
easy to overlook. He does not mind. There is nothing
pressing, right now, to be done. He sees a woman
and he sees a man. Their faces are faces he might see
anywhere, on a bus or an airplane, or in a park
where people sit on a bench and toss crumbs to the birds
that are everywhere these days. He sees no child,
not with them nor waiting their return. He is relaxed.
He will watch them for most of a day, as they eat,
as they converse, as they walk about their city. Even
as they ready themselves for sleep, he will be watching.
As always, he keeps to himself, so there will be no
complications as he studies these new subjects, this
woman and this man who is at ease with her. They are
both in their middle years, both comfortable in their
comings and goings. He notes that her eyes are hazel, that
her husband’s hair has gone gray. He wonders, as he
does from time to time, what has made these two as they
are, what force binds each to other, other to one, how
either will fare when the other is gone, as one, though they
do not know it, will certainly be by dawn.