Saturday, March 15, 2014

Myself – A Postcard \ Climbing March Hill #3

Nancy: Some postcards are maps of Maine with an arrow, “We are here.”  Some are more singular.  This is an “I am here.”

Myself – A Postcard

Gleaner, picker, digger, fisher,
sun-risen, sea bequeathed,
night haunted, haunter,
full-moon singer,
flower fed,
tide led,
wind released,
come to earth in search of healing,
needing, seeking, aching, owing,
borrows soaring,
sends you seeing, sorrow, caring,
night songs, love songs,
and spells.

Alan: Again and again we struggle toward Spring, carrying memories like embers in clay, finding our way to warmth and light.

Climbing March Hill #3

Halfway up
     the trail grows muddy –
clouds sag in the trees –
     air turns dank.
Crows the only buoyancy
     in these dark woods.

Old path: familiar
     from so many years.
See?  How it’s worn?
     Traces of our steps –
our past journeys.

See?  Tracks of our friends –
     the dogs, the cats
who kept us company?
     I name them, one by one,
in my mind.  Call to them.
     Reach out a hand to touch.

Reach out an actual hand
     toward yours.

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