... as though called from my bed / I stand outside ... midnight at my feet
... suspended in the mist between two maples / a quarter moon
... an owl somewhere along the river
My reading of this poem on public radio:
https://beta.prx.org/stories/130682
Photograph by Jukka Helnovirta
And contemplate the quiet lives that are lived in the night.
ReplyDeleteDear Teresa, your poem recalled to me the ten Septembers in the '80s when I camped in the parks of Minnesota--often by Lake Superior--for two weeks with a friend from college and convent days. She was, I believe, my soulmate. She died in August 1998 and I miss her still. Night up north are often crystal clear and the stars are diamonds holding the dark night to the Universe. Such clear vision then. Peace.
ReplyDeleteDee, I am so sorry for your loss ... times on the north shore are always so special, made more so by our companions ...
DeleteWonderful. Brr, I feel like it's too cold to even go out at midnight now. But I can live vicariously through this piece.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this a couple of weeks ago, my last night outside in my bare feet. Now, not an option ... brrrr is right.
DeleteThat is a beautiful poem Teresa. One of your very best. Your minimal words of simplicity seem like a full volume. I envy your talent.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I do similar things. Whenever I see a bumble bee flit from flower to flower or see a large maple leaf fall off a tree I will say to myself, "I'm sure I am the only person on Earth to see that happen."
Thank you so much, Steven. Our shared perspectives on life brings me happiness.
DeleteAnd yes, in that moment you are the only person in the universe to see that moment ... a wonderful thing. I'm grateful for your awareness.
Thus far, my favorite poem! I really connected with this. It's wonderful how so few words can say so much.
ReplyDeleteIt's among my favorites, too. It speaks of my life at its best.
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