Poem #77: Crossings
Crossings
The best surprise,
I think, has always
been a blanket of fireflies
over a cornfield
on a June evening,
blinking...blinking...
delighting the eye
and igniting a sweet
nostalgia for a moment
that hasn't yet passed--
a moment that finds me
thinking, dreaming of
the windswept prairies
my grandmother knew
and loved, the same
rolling grasslands,
the same vast,
blue heaven,
the same shipwreck
of mountains
floating in a sea of gold
that I traverse--back
the way they came--to
the place that remembers
the weight of my step,
the curve of my hip,
the gentle kiss
of my fingertips.
She reaches out,
and draws me in
to the blinding glare
of sun on marble,
where I can breathe
in dignity, and
rest a while
on her aged breast,
dazzled, sightless,
blinking...blinking...
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
Photo: USDA
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