Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Two for today


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


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

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