Sunrise burns through the early mist,
warming me like a quilt forever shared,
unaware the delicate, weak seams
would eventually fray and split;
letting the cold morning wind inside.
The storm arrives without warning,
fury consumes hurt, suddenly casting
a dark shroud across our blue skies,
over the angry sea, gray like wet slate.
Even at a safe distance, we can no longer protect
our moors from being thrashed upon
by tempestuous surf, uninvited to our private beach.
We do not have the strength and courtesy
to hold on to threadbare ghosts of our years.
Once tender now lies tossed,
heaped in a corner of tattered pain.
Traveling down broken and divided roads,
our backs turned, hearts chilled;
we walk away from mornings that once were,
to mornings that will never be the same again.
The wood stove fire burns slowly, warmth seeps into ridges of a red fleece blanket that adorns my shivering shoulders. Outside the snow softly falls, swirls of silver and white cover autumn into bare branched silence.
North winds howl, white tailed deer scrape snow on their tongues on a late afternoon in early winter. Caught in high country silence, I sit and wonder, will we ever dance together again, one more time embrace the soft rustlings of our mountain love.
The late afternoon begins to dim; Night fall trails and gives way to the gray violet of snowy dusk. I listen for your voice to echo down the high country ridge; a gesture of your long awaited return home. Outside the mountain settles into an early winter, the deer and I wait for December snows to end, and the passes to clear, and embrace the pale glimmer of morning.
Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.