I wonder if you would care, your missing so evident in my everyday world already. The last poem I sent, the last picture. the last ping I asked you to acknowledge. So I put your name here and hope that the skies are full of the stars we watched so many times. I will count every night that they allow.
Poem for the son who has turned away
I can’t capture birdsong
or the draft that hawks
ride over just-mown fields.
As blackbirds pepper
the clouds – west to east mornings
east to west of an afternoon –
I pause to listen to the wave
of wings; their cries
soft bells against the leaden sky.
Hardness washes
my heart like the particular howls
of dogs, their sleep erased
by a siren’s piercing scream.
A lonely wail and echo
until all is silent again.
Verb: meanders a circuitous journey, especially an aimless one. Noun: (of a speaker or text) proceed aimlessly or with little purpose; (of a person) wander at random. Orgin late 16th century (as a noun): from Latin maeander, from Greek Maiandros, the name of a river. (A favorite -- A meander is one of a series of regular sinuous curves, bends, loops, turns, or windings in the channel of a river, stream, or other watercourse.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Enter freely and of your own will
Classes were scheduled to start on Tuesday, January 16th, unfortunately, that first day saw the school closed due to cold and snow. So all c...
-
I wonder if you would care, your missing so evident in my everyday world already. The last poem I sent, the last picture. the last ping I as...
-
There was a moment on the way to Charles de Gaulle airport Thursday morning when I looked up to see Jerry laughing with a young black man on...
Hugs!
ReplyDeleteOh Mary.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful, and heartbreaking.
Holding you in my heart.
Stars.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful and so hard. All love to you.
ReplyDelete