A Longing for Thoreau

I hold fast to my walking

stick as I leave

the beaten path to follow

my own trail

Into only partially familiar woods.

There is a part of me that

hunkers down

Here, within the gloom of autumn

or later, the promise of spring

Tilt back my head

Shake my mane and

Sniff the air.

I crouch beside the creek flowing here, simple and without a care.

A glimpse of a whitetail yearling

Frozen in the tangled underbrush

The soft call the cardinal sings to his mate

The reflection of us all in the stream

In this late November dawn

Nirvana

the coyote

the cardinal

the whitetail

and me…

 

©Nancilynn Saylor

November 2017

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Picking Roses for Romeo

 

 

A holiday! Free from the office madness

still awaken early, as is my habit;

birds not yet aroused.

I put on coffee to perk and my Christmas slippers

step outside to see what this dawn will bring.

 

The fragrance of roses

draws me down the damp, muddy path

still wet from yesterday’s rain.

The very best roses are at the very corner

of the house

where the pathway ends

and the deck begins 

When Romeo returned

after decades being away

he transplanted them from our neighbors yard

who did not care for Roses

and was pleased when I started tending them.

He offered them to us when he was moving away-

I said yes. 

My Yes

meant Romeo had to dig and pry them up

from their current space

repositioning them in our backyard.

I remember

He was not as overwhelmed with joy

as I. 

Now,

these many years after,

they flourish,

a testament to his care of them

and love for me.

This morning I snip a few of the finest specimens

tucking them into four

brilliant glass vases…

just to make him smile

when he

awakens.