Bridge   2 comments

forestmisttrail1

Make a bridge of rain
the hour says, so sky and I do —
water and sight, slant
of light to dance on,
firm enough (sure as breath,
fine as the fleece of stars
you spun last night, sky)
we glide from hilltop to top,
this gray company and I.
Not looking we walk side by side.
Footfalls hush in the thrum of rain.
It’s only staring that puts us off
each choosing to doubt the other, as if
real is something to decide alone
not our song together. Mist sheer
as deep leaves clothes us all,
with waking only another dream,
this way we cross over.

/|\ /|\ /|\

image:  forest

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2 responses to “Bridge

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  1. Love the way this poem captures the essence of this liminal period between summer and autumn.

    • Thanks for reading and commenting, Lorna. Liminality is one of my favorite places to look for insight. So much is otherwise sub-liminal that it passes unseen. And right now Western culture doesn’t seem very good at noticing subtlety (though that hasn’t always been the case), so the field is wide open for anyone who does venture there to look there and talk about what they find. Hail all kindred spirits of the subliminal and liminal! Nerd alert: Latin limen, liminis is “threshold.” Since everyone else is busy outside the box, beyond the threshold, inside the box is one place to be at this point, if you want peace and quiet and space to look around 🙂

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