We’ll talk sometime
but not now,
not for a while,
maybe in the next life
or when the sun
lights 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 narrow trail
to the sound of sea lions
barking their belonging,
we wandered into their world,
the one we thought was ours.
This is my favorite of your wonderful poems.
Lovely, as usual. Eternity in a blade of grass. Would that we could see it.
That image glows: “the sound of sea lions/ barking their belonging…”
Thank you, Don.
I remember when I thought their world was ours. I am a grown-up now.
Beautiful, brother. It takes down and in and settles us in an old new place.
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.
No
We’ll talk now
when we have so much
Just sitting reverently in sweet silence with this one….