You’re invited to join me on an afternoon walk late in January this year. If the surroundings seem strange for a midwinter day, you probably haven’t lived on the east edge of the Rockies in Colorado.
I didn’t know why I stopped at the concrete barrier
beside the sidewalk where I had walked
so many times before,
with the traffic rushing past me as it always did
and the sun shining just enough
for a mild winter day.
I didn’t know why I looked down over the barrier
while dogs barked at play in the park nearby
and balls bounced on courts and clanged on hoops
and the birds were nowhere to be seen.
Below me water curled like a blue green comma
behind a gentle slope of earth
several arms’ length away,
and a solitary oval of snow lay in shadow,
surrounded by blades of wild grass,
golden brown and sometimes black,
all leaning toward the earth,
their tips pointing to the water.
From water and earth, snow and grass,
stillness rose like incense,
enveloping me, seeping through me, becoming me,
while behind me engines whirred in a steady beat
and over in the park dogs barked, balls bounced,
and the birds were nowhere to be seen.
Ah, I thought, this must be
what death feels like:
so still,
no place to go,
no action to take,
no opinion to hold –
no wonder humans fear it –
how we love the familiar tumult
that convinces us we are alive.
When at last I turned around, I watched bemused
the spinning wheels and gleaming metal and
the drivers intent on being somewhere else.
Continuing my walk, I scanned the sky
in search of a bird that might lead me home,
for my footsteps felt uncertain indeed –
but even then the birds were nowhere to be seen.
I haven’t gone back to look over the concrete barrier since that day: I wouldn’t want to disturb one blade of grass in my memory.
Ah, winter! We definitely need some sunshine and warm weather in our lives right now to cheer us up. Lovely poem, as usual, Sally. You have a gift for free verse.
Thank you, Imo Jeane. I’m glad the poem hit you just right today.
Your beautiful & meaningful poetry struck a familiar chord with me, as coming home from the outside world, I love to be quiet and look over the green, calm hills and tall redwood tree In my back yard in silence.
It’s so nice to hear from you, Doris. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.
Delicious!
Thanks for saying so, Gwynne!
“how we love the familiar tumult that convinces us we are alive” <– love this
Thanks for prompting my smile, Lisa!
Beautifully written and touching.
I’m very glad you thought so, Dona. Thank you for saying so.