The Appointment by Simon Phillips

Deon slips out the door in the stillness just before dawn and gently shuts the iron gate behind him. He lifts his heavy hood and bundles himself against the cold. Out through the shadows of his strained brow and into the soggy blanket of night his eyes dart up and down the streets. His breath swirls in great plumes around him. He is marching, grim-faced and determined, to the nearest church. Terror grips him.
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“There he goes again,” said the woman across the way Joanne to her friend as they sat down for lunch.

The plane landed and he bounced in his seat as he felt the wheels touch the runway. He was glad that he was next to a window and could see where they were after such a long flight. His mother told him that they would stop in Miami before they reached the island, but that was only for a few hours. The pilot announced the time of arrival and the temperature as the plane came to a stop. His ears still bothered him and he did not like the gum his mother gave him. It didn't help unblock his ears, but he was glad to have something besides the food on the plane.

we let the rocks
just skip themselves
across the shallow
pond so you and I
can point & laugh
at clouds that murmur