“Winter in Carmel”
Jan 8, 2015
Upward and outward I looked,
Across the valley and the hills covered
With grey-green shrubs:
The morning sun warm on my face,
Hummingbirds abuzz in my ear.
A bridge I crossed from old to new,
A fresh year welcomed by cymbals
Cobbled from cover and pot.
I taste the new and I caught a glimpse
Of youthful past, the tender look
Of a mother, the proud glance of
A father, and the care of a sister;
The moment was thick with memory
And anchored with hope.
We walk through time, the coalescence
Of present and past, standing in awe
Of the forest, redwoods straight and tall.
The darkness of the undergrowth gives
Way to moments of brightness
That uplift the face of visitors below.
Fresh scents of pine and citrus
Wafts us back to earlier times,
Times of summer, of youth, of camping,
But I, however, am a guest.
I breathed in the sights,
Drank down the sounds,
And soaked in the light of the fading sun.
Then, it was squeezed out of me.
Coughing. Squeezed again. Coughing.
Two strong arms enclosed about me;
By night the vessel shuttled us across the sky
Eager to catch the first blush of morning light.
Heads lolled, feet swelled,
And I walked in and out of sleep.
When we arrived, the day had begun,
And the cold air raced to greet us.
Was it a dream, a vision by visitation,
A cry of the subconscious?
No it cannot be because past
Has loomed into the present.
A new work has begun,
And its weight I feel around me.