Anniversary
I walk the plowed road. Even brown slush
glistens in the sun. Last year this day
my father died, briefly. In an elbowed rush,
they brought him back. I don’t know the way
of such things, only that they blessed us with four
days more–time to fly, drive, arrive, live, be…
our suddenly fleet feet bare on the raised floor
of the urgent now, the only-this now, the
now not everlasting. We defended, then,
from the tubes that made life possible, also
impossible; doing all one does when
one h0pes for still to do; saying, low,
I love you in the lightening of the dim maze
that’s death, arms around arms, returning gaze.
************************************************
A reading of the poem:
************************************************
Here’s a draft sonnet (of sorts – I know the meter is not exact) written as the old year, a rather hard one for me, departs.
I will likely link with Real Toads and dVerse Poets Pub open link nights.
I wish all the happiest of new years.
ManicDDaily 
Recent Comments