for Michelle
On a snowy hill
with the sky soft gray
and the wintering sage
all scrubby and dark
we wandered in circles
around the white knob
and spoke in circles
sage and gray, about
the dark and what is soft,
we were not lost, just
happy to be wandering
inside a snowy afternoon,
we found our own footprints
and stepped in them again,
though already we were not
the same women who’d made them.
Circular, your poems have been recently. Or, maybe, they’re actually spirals. Love the speaking in sage circles while circling the sage[brush].
You can never step into the same footprint, twice.
The footsteps, finding them again in the walk. Stepping back into them, and the change in that short stretch of time. Change, yes. Never lost, just misplaced:>)
Just misplaced! Yes the snow is not lost. The sage is not lost
🙂
Xo r
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, January 3, 2015 at 9:08 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “How Everything Changes While Walking with a Good Friend”
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