Under gray winter skies
the heart of the valley pumps
through the tap roots of evergreen.
Crows sit atop the tall firs,
lean and thin with winter hunger.
I am not gathering, no,
still living off summer fat,
quiet as the stones beside the river.
There I dream of building bridges
to span the chasm that keeps us apart.
Later, much later, people will cross
with their wagons of desire,
ready to inhabit the forgotten land
verdant and rich with green destiny
yet only we have the power
to reach out now
and dare to touch hands,
savoring this moment
across the expanse.
Reading of “Building Bridges” with music by Vivaldi featuring Itzhak Perlman