I came back
to where I was
not really knowing
where I’d been
turning, just a little,
was hypnotic
gave me barely
a lovely buzz
saw some trees
branches slightly moving
dropping their dust
into the sun’s rays
a little more
but not too fast
or I would miss
the rewarding glimpse
of the Bald Eagle
airing, east to west
slow movement still
to see the pine
with sunlight braking
on their spines
then fracture outward
and then gone
by clouds
which continued
to turn me around
the road, empty road,
I let it pass
kept circling slowly
in snowy grass
glancing over
storm fallen wood
tearing up
with mourning,
I knew I would
remembrances have
that affect on me
sorrow as common
as all these trees
clouds would move me
to blue sky
so bright with light
my tears would dry
chipmunks talk, race,
chase and scamper
do they think or
by instinct know
someone nearly stepped
on their treasure
slowly moving
no way to measure
tiny waves
with ice chips
begin to clatter
now the wind with
whispering jazz
moves me back
to where I was
Stanski
December 30, 2019 ^
Steve Haarman 