Certainty

A flutter of green.

Faded, single leaf

Then spray of gold,

Carried on a wind,

Skimming my hair.

The morning has gone,

And with it

Those patients

Who one by one

Have sat in the evened-out light

Of my examining room.

A chart has closed,

And plan of action

Made official

In bold typescript.

Now in the open

Of a midday walk,

I can see the words

Already spoken

Between us,

My patient and me.

My words removed

His bated breath.

In a hushed corner,

Surety was tendered,

An occasion

Rare enough

In the well-lit room.