He had different ways of sitting
with his eyes downcast and his hands neatly
on his knees. For some they waited longer.
It should be stated that their attitude
(in both senses, feeling and posture)
while waiting suggested neither
impatience, doing a job, nor cultish
devotion. At length they helped him rise.
A wheelchair would have suited
the scene, but he could walk
well enough, especially as they neared
the door of the cabin. Outside,
one might have thought some boson
had suddenly granted mass
to the mountains, canyons, forests
(fall-tinged and evergreen) extending themselves
before him; to the hawk-filled sky, the towns
below the horizon … “You’re kind,” he said
to his helpers, and it was as if
he was Adam naming things in the old mythology.