halting steps along this path,
roughened slate set into
soft cocooning moss,
lead me out to healing sun,
air charged with anger fading fast,
dancing more with every stone,
why would my heart remain
when peace and light
live somewhere else
and it is time to
place the love we had
upon my sleeve
and let it go,
a badge to honor
early days and honest hopes,
frozen ponds in moonlight,
rich wetland life observed,
owls calling from our pines,
rock duets, slow dances,
sleeping in the curve
of loving arms,
voices raised in song,
poetry discovered.
some will remain,
those roots dug deep
that have become my own,
a life outdoors embraced.
mistrust and blame will not
be my companions,
though sadness and regret are
with me for a time,
I have no expectation that perfection
lies ahead, nor would it be
a welcome thing, but look for
an authentic life,
taken as it comes,
owning my reflection
without flinching,
clear eyed, eager (still),
open to creative joy,
grateful for rich moments
added to the flow
of every day
_______________________________
for day 4 of NaPoWriMo. the prompt was for a love poem sans cliches, and could be taken in any direction.
I kick the football yet again,
choosing to forget
the inevitable,
that it will be snatched
at the last moment
and send me tumbling
end over end through blankness,
wailing, furious, shedding illusions
like jagged sparkler beams,
crash landing, spent,
in a heap of dim regret.
but, then I do get up,
fortitude my ally,
defiant, standing straight,
determined to survive,
and run toward the garden of my soul,
where love and self forgiveness thrive,
to heal, and not look back
we settle, cozy with each other,
life together flowing,
knowing we won’t leave
this place, our coupleness,
while our hearts are here.
quiet moments, though less weighted,
felt more clearly than crescendos,
simple, loving gestures
saturated with delight,
flowers you have chosen,
waiting on our table,
lovely, in a jar or pitcher,
knowledge of these growing things
and bird songs,
gifts I brought to you
through our acquaintance,
love’s osmosis
passing bounty back to me.
you brought me here, to
nights on mountains,
walks through wetlands,
skiing on a snow deep pond
in winter moonlight,
summer swimming ledges,
hearing loons or beaver slaps,
thrushes lilting song in hemlock woods,
rhododendrons bent with snow,
discoveries that echo joy,
and I suppose, my loving them
is now a gift turned round again
us together, still
improbable ember
rescued from the dark,
almost at its end,
not quite extinguished
once hopeful
souls bared in grief,
looked with honest eyes
at last, just on the edge
and leapt as one
to breathe together,
gently turning glimmer
into glow once more,
memory and faith
relighting love,
honesty and trust
its fuel
standing steady,
hand clasped
loving hearts
held surely,
hard won flames
our bright reward
shall we raise love’s goblet now,
so soon, to drink raw wine
this vintage newly casked,
or should we free
our senses to absorb
time’s sun and water,
ripening our feelings gently
matching nature’s earthy rhythm,
gathered in at peak and pressed,
their bursting essence flowing into
stout oak cradles to ferment
and morph to richness
on the tongue and in the heart,
is this not worth the wait?
note: this is an Anacreontic, a poem about love and wine. done with no set meter or rhythm. Today’s prompt on the NaPoWriMo.com site.
I stand on the newer side
of grief not knowing what
that opening will bring
but trusting my intent certain
that this journey must be made
God help me there is still love
a garment long worn thin
I do have hope the gift
of help caring hands to clasp
many loving words
Mine only if I ask and
swing this new door
wide to admit them
Today new portents fly
the sky great cloud wings
that form a goose
A love borne gift
come from the past
to urge the leap of faith
to go fly free
It whispers trust your spirit
it will guide you
trust your strength
it will not fail you.
A new door opens
hope is thrumming
and I step through
____________________________________
I truly think the goose-shaped cloud was my spirit guide the day I saw it.
Awake not by choice,
my mind wanders freely
to think about change
as a passage, a progress.
Seeing light through the window
too early for sunrise,
the lamp of the huntress
sends beams without warmth.
As the moon sets I rise,
glance out at the shapes
tall pines against sky,
emerging from darkness
to frame the new day.
On my way home the penny dropped. It was one of those early fall days with a vivid blue sky, the kind that surrounds me with color and sensation, my brain revving up from the joy of it all.
Passing Fitzwilliam Road, glancing at the road sign, I thought no kidding, really? Let’s see now. Driving home, our road is Mountain Road and I’m headed toward Mt. Monadnock. Coming up from Troy, Monadnock Street ends at Mountain Road with a perfect view of the mountain behind our house.
Hmmm, folks from Marlborough call our road Jaffrey Road, because of course, that’s how you get to Jaffrey from there.
And that was it. I was in. I had hacked the country road code. Road signs mean what they say around here, for the most part, anyway.
There is, I’ll admit, a Road Number Four which meanders from Route 12 past a beautiful marsh, woods with streams, some interesting old houses and a farm stand before ending at Templeton Turnpike. So, not all the time.
Chalk that one up to a misguided flatlander. Which I’m not anymore. At least not a flatlander, and I’m fairly certain about the other.
Living up here has been a heart’s wish for a long time. It is obvious to me now that I followed the right signs, one at a time, to end up at the foot of this mountain.
Back in 2005, the one thing I was certain of was the need to leave the city, the house we were in, the life we led, to a simpler place, to be near family. My husband Mike was not well, was not going to get better, so we migrated north.
It was wonderful for both of us to be closer to nature, in a town where offseason rush hours emptied the streets by 6. Better, but I never felt truly at home. It just wasn’t simple enough, wild enough, but I’d accomplished what I set out to do with the move. It was okay.
Fourteen months later life took a drastic turn, when Mike died very suddenly and unexpectedly. He had been sick a long time, and the man I knew had been gone a long time as well, taken by the effects of Parkinson’s and dementia. The long goodbye on a road with no signs.
By the second month anniversary of his death I saw quite clearly that I could either fall apart on the 19th of each month, or use it as a celebration of what was positive in my life, a mile marker of achievement, something to applaud.
So I did just that, each month celebrating the milestones, letting Mike know, as I touched the sign on the memorial bench outside our community center. Hey, Mike, guess what?
And so it went, mile marker by mile marker, to dating for the first time in almost 40 years, online no less. Meeting the man I would marry four years later, moving to New Hampshire in 2009.
Living first in a charming old school house in Peterborough, nice enough but it was temporary. Aggie, our Newfie puppy, came along.
The next spring we found and bought a wonderful old house, built in 1796, next to an iconic pond with the mountain right behind it. The woods full of owls, deer, coyotes, birds, smaller creatures.
A year ago, after much searching, the road led to Horace, my dream lab pup. He is my joy and Aggie’s boon companion.
So here we all are. At the intersection of two roads leading to the mountain. And that’s how I got here, by reading the signs.
Life With Horace 