The edge of the rock leads down
from the inland hill,
like a spiny tendril to the sea,
tapering until the fingertip
joins the rise and fall
of wet tide and ocean.
To receive the tender feeling
of what once was and still may be,
the rock more nerve than bone,
surface coarse, but through it
a gift of connection
to something old and kind.
Set in stone, a wish from long ago
pulsing with a slow quiet,
believing in all that is to come
through grief and despair,
the assurance of many years
in just one place.
I found your poem very profound. The notion that through the rock we may connect with the “something old & kind” really touched my heart. It gave me a dramatic picture of a wonderful place. Thank you!
This is one of your best, Don. It has that combination of language, metaphor and mature insight braided tightly together that earmarks a poem that really comes off the page.
Here is a wording thought to get out of ending the line on an adverb, which I never consider the best move:
pulsing with a slow quiet, believing
in all that is to come
Thanks for posting on Facebook. It ups the quality of what can be shared amongst us all, and I really am inspired by that.