Friday Poem

The View from East Rock (Day #17,119)

You stand at the helm of East Rock as

Though it were a ship setting sail. Your gaze

Reads the horizon like tea leaves, and,

Suddenly, you feel dwarfed by this ordinary

Sunset as if for the first time in 17,119 days.

Transfixed by the light and the longing,

You follow the ungodly caw-cawing of gulls

Gutting fish on a not-too-distant dock.

In fact, you too are restless tonight.

Or is it “restive?” You wonder about that.

And you remember wondering about

That before, and looking it up, and then

The forgetting. It seems as though forgetting

Should be harder than remembering,

Like running downhill is harder than up.

Instead, all you can track is the wind

Rushing by, carrying leaves like you once

Carried children across Mill River, and

Before that, the silence of fireflies kindling

A path up the mountain that marks our

Once-upon-a-time New Haven. One by one,

Such moments slip like pearls off a strand,

And, as you blink, the strand itself blows by.

By K. Ann Cavanaugh
© 2010