If there be loons here,
then, they are hiding,
perhaps in the tall fronds along the shore
where I walk no more
with you beside me.
Once we heard a beaver slap his tail
like cannon-shot,
the birds startling from the trees,
your ears perking up,
wolfish and knowing.
It is lonesome here,
without you,
my old pal.
Yet yesterday, I breathed in
a deep draught of dry, crackly leaves
and, in that moment,
was purely happy.
Life goes on.
We were two souls, travelling.
We are still two souls, travelling,
just on different planes,
and I can't find a loon anywhere,
for solace at Loon Lake.
A poem from 2015, to be shared with earthweal's open link, as this new October begins. The lagoon in Port Alberni is alongside a forest trail Pup and I walked so often through October afternoons.
{{{{HUGS}}}} You took me there, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteSherry, this is lovely poetry ... one of the most wonderful aspects to 24 years in Minnesota ... the loons, their calls. Magical.
ReplyDeleteTwo souls travelling on two different planes..still connected..how beautiful is that! How lovely is your writing, Sherry!!!
ReplyDeleteOh, Sherry, the pain of your loss is palpable. But it is true that you both continue to exist in different planes.
ReplyDeleteVery sad ! Cressida
ReplyDelete