Two for today

(untitled)

Is this my needle, my north

this sorrow by birth, the worth

of my howl, my how? Only now

as the trail peaks mountain

do I find mind giving way

to sky, hawks hooking way

from why; oh, high stones;

oh, cairn of my woe, this

burrow, this hoed row rolls

me under tow. Only a bat

could find me now. I am

naught but sound, waving

this exquisite existence,

this pittance, a glitter

in sky’s blue skirt.

emm 4.19.11

Visible

I see you. Yes. You are

the impossible route

up granite, seen only

one move at a time,

found more by fingertip

than eye.

I see you. Yes. You are

the line through trees

in deep powder, seen

then lost, visible

to the knees, a sense

of give and take.

I see you. Yes. You are

the smooth tongue,

the reflection of sky

leading the way through

white churn water

where the line is fine,

a single oar-dip

between slide

and flip.

Ellen Marie Metrick

4.20.11