Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Missing the Boat
MISSING THE BOAT
First in line at the ferry terminal
the only car in the wide gray parking lot.
I write by the windows while you buy
We end one journey beginning another.
Like life and death, exciting,
sad and glorious.
My hair is full of eagle feathers,
your arms look like wings.
Our heads are slowly turning
white and the wind
has become something different.
Who knows whose ancestor
travels back to me. Whose message
is typed across a black wing?
Surely the Grandmothers
will of these verses
teach us to read.
for Idaho, with gratitude
c2011 TLStokes (all rights reserved)