glittering

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a canoe in a bay of a tiny island at sunset. sometimes i get jostled out of the day-to-day enough to remember to reflect on the blessing of being here. tonight a fast bike up to the corner to wait to meet sue. stand in a late-day beam of sunshine and marvel at treetops, unfurl my ears to the sweetness off swainsons thrush and the multitude other birds i have no names for yet.

a little bit of a time of reflection. i’m doing a poetry workshop this weekend so i have been thinking about rusty old poems, and this one surfaced, a little over ten years old. so interesting to go back, but to also never have left…

slipping belladonna into the loose pocket of this grey wool sweater

shifting all attention to the letter to be written on the couch.

boiling water for rooibus chai,

soothing a sore throat of words unspoken,

grief spilling through the locks.

i dream of wading through murky water

tossing around plants

my grasping attempts to filter it.

they get caught in the undertow and re-circulate,

thrashing about,

no place to find root in the turmoil.

i realize today that this is my grief:

turning over and back on itself

going nowhere

not given proper avenue to pull clean water through.

later on shore,

someone appears

who is not you.

i relax into her

relief at having found my way.

there is so much i don’t know

about her

but she wants to tell me.

you ask if i have grieved,

the death of my gramma.

i grieved her loss before i lost her

three am last night the pain in my left nostril woke me,

so much burning i tossed and turned for an hour before sleep found a way back in.

this morning i sleep late and dream of letters un-sent and getting left behind, my arms full of clothes and cameras as i try to find my way.

wake to the sound of the mail slot,

just before noon.

today is not sunshine

but partial clouds.

tomorrow will still come.

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