"buffetings" poems
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park or capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open
4.3k
There are those times we soar like birds …
fashioned with wings, strong and bold upon our backs.
The wind guides us upward
on invisible strings and off we go again
to that upward highway and places unknown.
I see you there now next to me, then
with no warning the path would take me elsewhere ...
for a time. But I never really lose sight in my heart
or even my head
that you are never far away.
We have things to learn and places to go.
And yes, there are still some rainy days when hiding
under the eaves is easier than braving
world’s buffetings
and weary is all we feel.
There are days you fold out your strong wings to cover me
And days when mine might comfort you
and we have but just a moment
to forget that life
isn’t easy. But life is growing.
And though the path might seem to swing so wide at times
we would lose our way, or lose each other …
we won’t. The home we built awaits
and you nor I
will forget our way back to it.
Soar with me. We come back home
in peace.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC