Outside the
wind is blustery, steady, serious.
I hear it, I
remember
That if I
don’t, I‘ll miss it.
I think
about how hard I’ve been trying,
So long, diligent,
worrying
About
everything, and now
I choose my
life,
It isn’t
going to be just sitting here
In the
garden, on the icy winter paths
Fussing about
the dailiness,
To finally,
tethers loosed,
Breathe in beginning
spring,
Though the old
place is like a best friend:
If I go off
for a bit,
I’ll still
come home to this haven.
In the late
winter my sister and I
Will be
traveling again.
We do well
together in the car
And it’s
time for us to wander some,
Sort
out this last season.
I don’t
think there
Are many
lessons one can learn and share
Except that
the road says
Where have
you been?
The path
says, yeh,
Where have
you been?
These
questions pop up like thorns,
In the
space created when there aren’t
Decades remaining.
Anyway, insights
don’t come often.
Wind,
voices of the sailing currents,
Rattling, gentling the brighter air, the snowy roar, the still,
These things will not come again.
Aho
Aho
