The Poem Poem

A beginning risen from the cool, damp ground

into morning’s fog;  as the low clouds spawn

on half winds and notions of air, and filled in sound
rolling surf calling unto the coming dawn

Rising in a subtle crescendo as deep velvet overhead

Bent into a warmer blue in the slow march of the East

And the fog gathered like welcoming spirits of the coming day

As wet grasses and seaside dunes gave up all hope of holding dampness

To bathe with the rest of us in heavy air and morning mists

A clan of deer stood in silence, and slowly began  retreat

Into shades of trees and fern covered crevices

Carved by snow melt streams, fed by overflowing springs

And Moon wandered near, and I could hear

The tinkled beams on the window glass

And in the drifted senses passions wear

I undress time, admit a grudging pass

Such as the times, the early fingers of sun

Brought the forest sounds in to a rising chorus

As the silence that filled darkness lost its hold on mystery

Morning reveals…the world begins to shed night hungers

Wet boot steps shed drops and splatters splashes

the next step that occupies the delicate remainder

As thought holds true as the Pole Star, courage washes

the dust of  the long journey, and yet a bit longer

It is to home, and to a memory of love; where

Tender breath warmed skin and

Eager hands embraced the edges my face

And I was a precious moment.

For what use these determined dreams

And the seeds carried  far as hope believes

She is  the fertile heart of life, and it seems

the part of home that I can never leave