When we tug at a single thing in nature, we find it attached to the rest of the world.
—John Muir
and so when I tug at the blue green ice
that marbles the top of the river, it’s no
surprise to find it connected to those mornings
when I was a girl and the lake was frozen
and I could skate all the way to the middle,
could follow the cracks and skate so far
I could hardly see my small yellow house.
I would lay down, face to the ice, and feel
the way the cold rose up to sting my check,
feel the chill seep through my winter clothes.
I would roll over and stare at the white sky
and wave my arms and legs in the angel pattern,
though there was no snow. And I’d stay there
a long, long time. In this way, I learned
it is possible to be warm even held by the cold,
and tugging at this, it is no surprise
to find it connects to everything.
I do like that Muir quote. I like how you translate it, though, as a tug at memory and the connections hold true.
oh wow. a lovely one, even in the context of your consistently lovely poems. even though the San Miguel and your childhood lake are frozen over, i’m still seeing the ripples set forth my this poem’s kerplunk.
Thanks dear Eduardo it was a sweet surprise, that memory so visceral
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Tuesday, January 6, 2015 at 9:30 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Yes, Everything”
WordPress.com
I would lie down. Ah memories…I grew up in Wisconsin where we did that too.
🙂
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Friday, January 9, 2015 at 2:34 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Yes, Everything”
WordPress.com