crop person outstretching hand in forest
Knowing When
Byron Hoot

I’ve been pulling triggers all my life
on what has to be done.  Never trigger
happy just the way time and circumstance
say, “On this day choose.” in that frightening
voice of no nonsense as if I already
know the conclusions of the logic
of where I am.  Some I know pray; what
I do is to squeeze gently on what cannot
be otherwise.  Later, when the echo
has long faded, a “Thank you.” I hear –
sometimes strong, sometimes a whisper,
always uncomfortable.  I’ve never been
fast enough to put a finger between
the hammer and the firing pin.