Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Morning After We Buried Mom

Sunday, November 19, 2006

The morning after we buried my Mother
Dawn opened up the day with mist and gray
I stood on the porch of my sister’s new house
Cold upon the lake
Remembering the chill of touching
Momma’s lifeless hands and face
As a wall of fog gray as corpses
Shields trees and water from view
Bird calls sparkle in the void
Bordered by clay red and torn
Edged with grass brown and wet
Fog glued together heaven and earth,
Sky and lake, and turned bone-white
And as the sun rose above skeletal trees
The fog began to move and churn
Across waters stilled before the sun’s return
Unstaked wild life’s hunger for warm bright light
November brings paleness to shortened days
And time ebbs and flows
The moment recedes into the past
Memories become as fog
And all things die
As it’s just another day
As it’s just another day
And it’s just another day
Before darkness returns to take us Home.



Blogger True North said...

Ahhh William, thank you...I have just come home from working downtown today, hung up my suit, brewed a coffee and opened your blog...my heart shruggs off the dense energy of cement and iron, unmanacles and expands into the depth and vison of your words...ahh, now I will read on...Cindy

4:40 PM  
Blogger A Flower For All Seasons said...

So wonderful to hear your poet's voice William. To touch the timeless through your eyes and breath. And a lovely feeling of anticipation as I choose to read only one entry on any given day, knowing that each time I visit here your voice will awaken something in me that will take me who knows where... Wendy

9:34 PM  

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