Sunday, June 16, 2013

Poem #77: Crossings


The best surprise, 
I think, has always 
been a blanket of fireflies 
over a cornfield 
on a June evening,
delighting the eye 
and igniting a sweet
nostalgia for a moment 
that hasn't yet passed--
a moment that finds me 
thinking, dreaming of 
the windswept prairies
my grandmother knew
and loved, the same 
rolling grasslands, 
the same vast, 
blue heaven, 
the same shipwreck 
of mountains
floating in a sea of gold 
that I traverse--back 
the way they came--to
the place that remembers 
the weight of my step, 
the curve of my hip, 
the gentle kiss
of my fingertips. 
She reaches out, 
and draws me in 
to the blinding glare 
of sun on marble, 
where I can breathe 
in dignity, and 
rest a while 
on her aged breast, 
dazzled, sightless, 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Spearfish Canyon, South Dakota
Photo: USDA

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