Darkness is to space
what silence is to sound,
i.e., the interval.

Marshall McLuhan

XXIII

Tuco lifted the wall hanging down.
He stared at the grasshopper
half hidden by the feathers woven
into the small hoop and the twined twine.
The ironwood seedpod bound in,
rock and feather, leather strips.
And the upside down bead nestled
in the upper region beneath the hoop.

Arlene had made it.
And then given it to him
to honor his grasshopper spirit.
She knew it was one beyond her reach.
Yet yearning stirred.
He had sensed it,
circled,
considered,
then moved on.

He hears that she is well.
But there is no urge to seek her out
and visit
as though
nothing
has changed.

The interval
assures change.

And yet....

Well,
he thinks of what he's learned.
"We now accept the fact that learning
is a lifelong process of keeping abreast of change.
And the most pressing task
is to teach people how to learn."¹
He returns the wall hanging,
the talisman,
to the wall.

And wonders
what he learned.
What Arlene learned.
Peace, he hopes, vibrant peace.