Bridge at Glen Falls. Photo by Ray Zimmerman.
Today I present a few poems on loss and the passage of time. I end with one on the healing power of nature’s songs.
Time’s Geography Behind the waterfall, the reds and blues sparkle and shine. Behind the rushing stream, the rainbow forms and dissolves. Leaving the illusion the droplets flow downstream. I stem from the river. They flow down my chest and arms. A fire of driftwood warms me. Logs burned cannot grow again. I cannot cross time’s geography to when I held you close; and felt the beat of your heart. I collect my belongings from your carport, leave my key and float downstream.
Dream of the River Dreaming of you I took the mountain road. In my old red pickup truck, I drove through mountain passes, saw the river below, the rapids were white as the glint of ice. Crossing the ford, I found the water too high. Too late to turn back I washed downstream. I passed kayaks and white water rafts, river lapping just below my windows. Kayakers shook their fists, raft guides struggled, Customers screamed as I careened into their paths. I climbed through the window onto the open bed. Ropes thrown from shore dropped short of me. The truck crashed against a boulder at a bend in the river. Thrown to the current, I scrambled to the bank. There I stood, shivering in new-fallen snow.
Coyote Land Go down to the raging waterfall. Where even the full moon cannot pierce the darkness that gathers under pines. Sit beside the fire as embers die. Sleep despite the noise of owls, their cackling calls like monkeys. That’s when coyotes come, ears alert to any threat. Soft feet make no sound. Fathered by a wild dog, grandson of a she-wolf, he’s not like Western kin, Far from desert lands silent forest creature stalks within a foot of fires and tents. He wakes you with manic laughter of souls condemned to echo in the calls of loons. Published in the Weekly Avocet