Wanderer

At length in my long hunt
for yesterday, foundations remind me
of grass bundles in every corner.
Strangely still, cows wander on a long graze.

Today, I wrench myself from wounds,
peeling away silence beneath my skin.
I stumble to find my destiny
hidden in uncharted corners of my mind.

Well-pipe and buckets store in my veins.
I lay down at the riverbank before nightfall
retrieving my childhood years.
Now I listen to the roots
of the philodendrons.

My eyes well up and capture
fields of time –
uncoiling broken chains
and honor
like a monument unveiled.

 Mourning

In late October, leaves dance
like a spiritual alchemy
signalling my half-way time.

I sort summer and winter clothing
soundless in preparation;
silence comes quickly.
The lake waits for a signal,
tranquil and strong; I take
my bundle to the canoe.

My throat softens –
I do not hesitate
to echo lyrics
of a familiar rhapsody
or even to touch the water,
perhaps knowing
some things must evaporate.