The Wait

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Slipping away,
Abandoning my kitchen,
Abandoning the household
Before morning
I return to my spot on the
Eastern shore and watch
Towards the west,
Dawn not yet behind me.
I wish for a canoe or boat,
The terrain beyond my strength
To carry weight, no wheels, no dock
No man-made permanence here.
The river is too high
For sandy beaches.
I cannot get close to
The willows, submerged.
I wait.
Will I see her again?
Perhaps a shadow of grace?
Will I see the small
Sky Swimmer low in the
River Swamp mist?
There in the soft light,
Soon, will I see her?
Too far to see clearly,
Eyes unfocused to catch
Movement, I wait.
The scent of beauty,
Of freshness, of cleanliness
Drifts around me.
Is it her or an unseen
Night blooming flower?
I wait, the predawn fragrance
Creating a halo of safety,
Soothing in the dark.
The air changes and I wish
For comfort and sleep,
Pushing those thoughts
Away, I wait, while
The darkness softens.
Blackness and faint
Silvery outlines drift
Into focus, then away.
The owls, the bats are
Resting now.
This being alone is
An illusion, should
I startle the quiet,
With a camera flash
I will catch eyes watching
Me, even as I watch.
There will be small specks
Of color and orbs,
Mostly beyond my
Poor vision, but felt.
I wait, watching peripherally,
As the charcoal mist turns
To silver, the light
Tells me the morning is overcast,
And I am truly alone now,
In this moment of between.
The beauty fragrance dissipates
Replaced by mud, the wet leaves,
My own sad grandmother exhaustion.
Small four-leggeds stir,
The biting wingeds find me,
Their sharp whining and
Stings distracting my attention.
I return my fatigue to the house,
To my art, my work, my life.
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Bear … 04.06.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint
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