She said
look no further than now
for your answers
they lie in the etched lines of your palm
as clear as river water, as trees begin to reluctantly lose their leaves
and carpet tired grass turns with auburn shade
birds flock in thickening swells above, seeking, seeking
somewhere further flung
another season lowers her crimson skirts in slow motion
gradual as a lover taking your hand and leading you to bed
a season for every emotion they say
wisdom to be had in the pockets of time
riffle through, as you would your father’s outdoor coat
big and heavy like slung beast of burden
penknife, stolen dice, half eaten chocolate
festooning glittering wrapping of a life
just as his father carried binoculars and said
look Candy, do you see the hawk? As it pierces rinsing cloud
and dives plummeting, for prey
the yellow glint of its feathers a burnt knife against
setting orange sun and the familiar smell
of clay pigeons and fox musk hugging
tall everglades and poison ivy
his hands deeply cracked with outdoor life
as my father’s, as my own.
I carry in my pockets a note he wrote
in miniature writing as if by reading over and over
I can summon time in reverse
what would I say? Or would I just point
up the hill where mist lies low and hungry
and we’d set off, strong backs in our family
the upright approach and determining furrows
there for generations
spoiling for a chance to tear out of still photos
and disappear back into the wild
Beautiful
bravo! 🙂 lovely poem!
As I sat outside on a warm night just gone dark
A visitor from the wild
An opossum about its night rounds
Stopped to look at me and scurried on
On a hot afternoon, from the same seat
Watching two turkey buzzards
Spiraling up the road-generated thermals
So high, seeming effortless, not a wing flap
With sharp eyes scanning for critters of the wild
In need of cleaning up
And on the Greenway
Wary rabbits watch the walking or running humans
And a woodchuck looks and disappears
A heron rises from the creek
All of them little more than a mile from WalMart
And I hear that coyotes and raccoons
Run in the streets and alleys of our great cities
The wild is not just in far forests and mountains
It is our neighbor
And it watches
Oh Candice, your words sent tingles through my spine …
“I carry in my pockets a note he wrote
in miniature writing as if by reading over and over
I can summon time in reverse”
Absolutely stunning imagery in this metaphor for life
Wow, that’s a good read!
I can feel the bittersweet nostalgia of this piece. The whole poems grabs you yet this one line stood out for me with the most vivid imagery – “another season lowers her crimson skirts in slow motion” Such a great line, dear! <3