Tuesday, November 17, 2009

What We Know

In the woods the summer birds
learn to fly, testing the air
& careful through sun & leaf the quick
fawn steps & stands
lured by roses and ripened plums

What we desire we cannot have

I know this; all my life
comes to this still moment. Between rocks
water wells up: call it spring
or miracle you say
smiling into the sun

on this hilltop where the hawks cry out

& the children pain
with stems of dried grass and wildflowers
making hearts & their names
on white cloth
your darkhaired daughter laughing

All my life these summer birds

have put on feathers & flown away
If I were
to touch your wet skin
to drink your clear water
dear my life, what could my hands

hold to


(Once again...and we shall see how this goes...I set out to gather up the poems of many years in one place, before they are all scattered and rainsoaked. This one was printed in Prairie Schooner)

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