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The Journey to the West

Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...

Thursday, December 28, 2017

In Memory of Lucille

Not for a great poet but for a neighbor no less dear
The Creek froze last night as life let loose its grip
And the mercury dropped in the mouth of the dying year
Not that man or beast could walk upon the thin ice sheet
Which had heaved up along the margins of the shoreline
Less than an inch thick, fresh and opaque enough
To track the chill waters coursing underneath
But the cars gathered in my neighbor’s driveway
Announced her crossing had just begun
As her breath must have guttered in her sleep
And now her spirit is bourn in a stilled passage 
Over the frozen waters of Weesuck Creek