It is the end of the powerline
do you know where we are?
I am asking myself. I have been here before.
I found my seventh grade shadow behind the trees planted
along the road
she was cowering with her toy compass and sorels tied up tight
I tried to coax her out into the light
My headlamp burned bright
a blue winter night broken
by it's whisper "come here beautiful"
You're my baby memory
it's okay to come along with me.
The darkness of the woods closed in behind her
enveloped her until only
her eyes remained
she told them
shimmer, glisten like a deer's
I heard a branch snap overhead and
snow fell softly on both of us
I moved
close as I could in the chaos of the moment
heavy imprints of crest fallen snow mimicking mine and her
footprints
our noses touched exchanged warm air
she turned and bounded away her mane a windy dream
droplets of winter dew settling
on my cherry cheek.
Winter winter winter
secrets and silence.
3 comments:
this is beautiful.
for some reason this one in particular I'd really like to hear read aloud.
Beautiful poem. I could 'feel' it. Had a great sense of visual space. Love the photos too.
I love the new design of your blog page. I read this one awhile ago and didn't know what to say. I still really don't have anything profound to say, except that it is very inviting and I love the whole concept of the idea. I agree with Jon, would sound incredible read aloud.
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