Funny
isn’t it
how late afternoon is also
early evening
and is (just as surely)
– night –
depending on the time of year
In the
scrapbook of my
memory
I will always
see the two of you
in a summer’s late afternoon
He settled
on the top step
of your Cathedral Street front porch
you – ever so slightly resting against his shoulder
Who
knows what story
you were browsing in the day’s news
December had barely finished spelling out its name, yet huge, wet snowflakes silently …
Playfully she folded her hands around his proposing marriage (though he was almost a generation removed) then just as quickly distanced herself from the thought tossing a little laugh over her shoulder This wisp of a child turned her back early on convention – instead held court with small wooden hearts special stones, crystal rocks…
The snow must have begun while we were sleeping, for outside the sheerest of veils already stretched from Heaven to earth. Trees and fences softened, and land blurred into water – barely visible geese passed overhead, merged with the mist and disappeared – all, silently and leaving no print on the ground. Yet still they…
Life was expectant with spring’s first bud rushed headlong into summer barely paused when Fall rescued us from languid August days. Winter nearing we must linger till morning light to pull on warm clothes slip past sleeping cats and out for our morning walk. No heron or Squirrel – only geese pass overhead, honking snow…
Baroque sounds massage the night. little boy whispers, “mommy, would you like it if s o m e …
Entrusting one’s innermost thoughts and feelings to another person – acknowledging that other person as the most important in one’s life – believing the trust will never be broken …akin to stepping into an abyss and knowing (on faith) someone will be there to catch you.