Their World

We’ll talk sometime
but not now,
not for awhile,
maybe in the next life
or when the sun
lights up the river
and rocks shine;
maybe when the earth
gives back what we left
when we thought
we had so much
yet all we had
was water in our hands
and the smell of green
intoxicating, delirious.
Down the long narrow trail
to waves breaking
and the sound of sea lions
barking their belonging,
we wandered into
their world, the one
we thought was ours.

 

 

 

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8 Responses to “Their World”

  1. Eleanor GillMilner says:

    This is my favorite of your wonderful poems.

  2. Tom Wilson says:

    Lovely, as usual. Eternity in a blade of grass. Would that we could see it.

  3. LFJ says:

    That image glows: “the sound of sea lions/ barking their belonging…”

    Thank you, Don.

  4. Paul Blythe says:

    I remember when I thought their world was ours. I am a grown-up now.

  5. David Kyle says:

    Beautiful, brother. It takes down and in and settles us in an old new place.

  6. somehow this poem comes to rest in me or the one I think is me, sometimes when I think I am. I do love the rhythm of this poem, thanks Don.

  7. Carol Carlson says:

    No
    We’ll talk now
    when we have so much

  8. Chaz says:

    Just sitting reverently in sweet silence with this one….

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