Saturday, November 28, 2009

Memories of Home

I said goodbye to the woods
back when the house was sold
Our little white aluminum sided
log cabin hidden at the end of the driveway
Having long ago packed for another place,
I returned to say goodbye to the trees
taking in the smell of the oak leaves and
laughing at the big mulberry
near the house it made for
a summer of sweeping the driveway
near several yard's worth of lawn
on our property
that I mowed every summer.
There is a wooded area to the front
where we used to play
house or tag or hide and seek
sometimes we just stood by the
fence and talked
wild wintergreen covering the ground
those red berries still bright in my mind
like the high place in the driveway
where the ground was good for sitting
just like my favorite clump of trees by the front fence.
We had two lady slippers that bloomed
every year like clockwork
they were jewels among the leaves there.
Our deer visited regularly to sample
my father's vegetable garden
along with my mother's flowers.
I said goodbye to the trees then
laying on the hood of my car
looking up at the blue sky, remembering
making sure I left last
taking the sign with our family name
closing the gate, turning left onto the street
for the last time.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Parallel Pause

She walks outside, looks up to the sky, sees
geese fly south for the winter, hears
the sounds of cars flying down the avenue, watches
the colors of the leaves and the grass - still deep green.

He notices the color of the sky, sees
the patterns in the leaves and the tracks in the sand, senses
woodsmoke from a nearby fire, finds
a wildflower blooming brightly in the morning sun.

She finds a small stream off the inlet, walks
along the path for a while, hears
the scattering of a bird in the underbrush, tries
to piece together the messages from her heart to her soul.

He climbs across the rocks, divided
along the beach where the surf sparkles brightly, finds
a small stone deep in his pocket, reminded
of the song she whispered in his ear that morning.

She walks back along the path, waiting
for the sign that carries her answers, shares
conversation to cheer another, takes in
the colors of the leaves and the grass - still deep green.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Clock Ticks Past Time

I like this path
Its worn edges
grass wedges
in muddy oblivion
Time passing my
patience edges
my head is amped
past 5000 rpm
Still I walk with
that idea that
waiting will pay
great dividends
Clock ticking ticking
A mechanical finger snap
waiting for that
message to arrive
beckoning forth
the invitation yearning
to walk that path
next chapter burning
a hole in my head
so much unsaid
yet swollen in my heart
even more than my
mindful waiting