There was a couple at the store today,

A man and a woman

They contemplated the price of meat and whether or not their week’s future held the salmon that was on sale

Vegetables, he said, and reminded her that she’d wanted some

He carried a leather satchel and her hair was twisted into a golden knot

They leaned into eachother and she nodded to the rhythm of his words, keeping time with the cadence of his voice

They walked in step with one another, kindly, slowly

They passed me in an instant, so quickly

But still, everything slowed as they passed

And I turned to catch a glimpse again

Of them

Walking on

Still together

In the rhythm of eachother

Grateful Dead tour dates scrolled across the back of his t-shirt, and a small hole drooped at the shoulder, probably torn long ago

I thought of them later, as I washed the dishes, 

And as I threw out the eggshell-coffee-ground-hash into the yard

A little nourishment for the soul, I said,

 Like a prayer to the moistened earth, and for that couple

And I think of them still this evening, and how they blessed me with their passing

Torn t-shirt and twisted knot of golden hair

There, in the rhythm of their togetherness