Anna Blake Godbout
Notes from the Ridge
I am greeting September with a quiet poem for my readers. The bustle of summer is now past. Here in Colorado our mornings begin with chilled autumn like temperatures. Spots of orange are appearing on the scrub oak and the aspens are tinged with golden on their tips of their leaves. So now make a cup of vanilla almond tea, settle in and read from the Journey On Collection Listening for My Name. I thank you for reading my words.
Listening for My Name
You returned with mysteries forgiven
a gentle cover of darkness surrounded
me with the wonder of anticipation.
You became yourself once more
someone long forgotten, this time promising
never to be lessened by fear again.
Inner stirrings beckoned for you
beneath my hidden need.
And then, you began to give
while I began to take with delicious breath.
Beyond the window pane the rains fell,
the thunder moved in from far off distances.
You gathered me in like fog clinging to a river,
refreshing sleep whispered this gift
as moonlight drifted through brushed away clouds.
In the quiet days and nights of winter to come,
I will turn to you,
and listen for my name.
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