Oh for peace of place
I seek around me
And all the while
Forgetting to look within
Calm and quiet after stormy skies
Have spent their fiery passion
Leaving moist grass in the dramatic evening sky
And let me be still to listen
The Writing Life
And letting go
And then it
is over
Winter
tucked away so neatly for the season
Not unlike
the box of shiny ornaments in the attic from the Christmas tree
The white
peaks surround, a reminder like left over wrapping papers and ribbons
Scattered still
in the corners of the room.
Somehow we
sense she is finally through
What we have
known
The givens,
assumptions, the safety of knowing
Is suddenly
gone
The bottom
dropped out from under
Searching for
solid ground
When we were
so used to walking on feet of snow
We are left
empty
Surprised to
find ourselves suddenly without
The habit of
heavy boots and zipped up parkas
As I head
out in morning to feed the horses
Who too are
finally letting go of their winter coats.
We leave
behind the wilds of winter
Easing into
summer so civilized with folks living for cocktail hour
And we may
never see it again.
Rain
It rains soft and temperate
On thawed soil
For the first time in seven months.
The sound on the hard deck
On metal roof
On ground still bare and brown
Startles the sleeping dog
Used to the silence of the snow.
We step out to soak in the odor
Short lived sweet smell
Evoking memories of running through puddles
On pavement
Somewhere far away in suburbia.
The easy release and laughter have followed me here
Will follow wherever I am.
I have yet to outrun the rain.
Gin Getz 