I sat,
I did,
On the
glacial rock
Scattered with
Green lichen
The water
Three feet
Down reflecting,
It did,
The already
Blue morning
Sky scattered
With pillowy
Clouds of
White, cut,
And this
I Know
For sure,
By a
Duck’s wake-
An acute
Angle - as
My eyes
Capture the
Flight, I
Swear, of
A heron -
Oh so
Regal in
Her wingspan!
The sound
Of her
Body moving
Through the
July air
Reminding me -
Drop the
Thousands of
Stories. Smile,
And be
Right here.
There you are,
Sweet child,
Drinking your morning
Coffee. Cream no
Sugar, you used
The same mug
Every morning
(Except for those
Mornings you met
Your friends at
The shop - I
Can see you -
Your broad shoulders
Caving in
Towards the center
Of things not
Unlike my shoulders
While I weep -
Laughing. God knows
I know there
Is nothing
Like sharing coffee
With friends, those
White paper cups
Flags of freedom;
I can see
The shop owner,
Too greeting
You with those
Big eyes that
You did not
Shy away from
Because you knew
Truth when you
Saw it -
And you knew
Why the coffee
Tasted better under
The awnings of
The shop - like
Wings of
freedom.)
