I Wonder...

I had this here before the crash. Liked it then and wanted to put it back. It belongs to a special woman. I gave it to her (for what it's worth).

Fastening the chain back on the gate,
My frozen hands pick up the cedar post
And cradle it across the shoulder of my coat.
Crowding close they follow me down the path,
Past piles of hay and feed bunks,
Thirst, not hunger, their master now.

The clouds above me are empty,
Their frozen tears cried out to my West,
Covering the earth with soft blankets of silence.
And I wonder…
I wonder where she is tonight.
What her name might be.

As the last warmth of day disappears,
Beneath shades of orange and red and gray,
I am brought back to my present place,
The wind turning my head to hide my face from it.
Frosty-white nostrils in front of black faces,
Wait for my work to be done.

The ice cracks and pops as I plunge
The post through its armor,
Allowing the water beneath to bleed out.
And I wonder…
I wonder where she is tonight.
What her face might be.

My task complete, I turn for the house.
The path up the hill seems steeper today,
Than it was the day before.
Each day seems longer now,
But quicker in its passing.
My winter closes in on me…and I am tired.

The house is chilled and dark:
Unattended in my absence.
I shiver in my solitude.
And I wonder…
I wonder where she is tonight.
What her warmth might be.

Banked ashes of cooling coals, I bring to life again.
With flickering fingers of hungry heat,
The meal I feed is consumed in haste,
With snapping teeth and crackling lips.
Heat escapes the cast-iron walls,
That house this fiery-feast.

The ticking clock, like a kettle drum,
Hammers at the silence in the room.
The meal I take is cold and plain.
And I wonder…
I wonder where she is tonight.
And what her heart might be.

The sheets are cold against my skin,
As I search for the heat in the blankets.
The pale, clear mist of frozen moonlight,
Casts soft shadows about the room,
As it seeps in through the window.
It will stand guard there all night long,
Giving safe harbor to my dreams.

Sleep, like death, brings forth new life,
As dreams are born again
In the deafening silence around me now.
And I wonder…
I wonder at her tender touch,
So soft and warm beside me.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

what a wonderful exposition of this state of mind, which i remember so well

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I can feel the days growing longer in your heart; passing more quickly; the empty sadness that is not self-pity but a sort of grim silent realization; the searching; the longing and the will to carry on until the work is done. Here is a man trying to figure out the puzzle of life. If it's a jigsaw puzzle, let's just hope all the pieces are in the box for the "big picture"...great writing. I just reviewed it again because I see it's up for a vote. I have to tell ya, I'll vote for this over my own entry. But I haven't read them all yet.

[Emily B]

ahhhh, now I remember where I've seen the screen name and the words fit the poet

beautiful work, I'm glad you brought it by, wonderful work actually

I missed your words

[Emily B]

so long gone . . . nice to see it come back to us

sending you warm wishes

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Just beautiful Mike. Great to read something so well written and filled with somber subtle emotion.

[An Ordinary Woman]

I am happy to see this here, you know how much I've always loved it.

It speaks to me beyond the words written because I've felt the same emptiness you write about. I've also felt the welcoming relief from it. :+)

This poem is a definite treasure, it's priceless to me.

[Annalisa]

:)

I remember this one, and it's as good as I remembered it to be. It's good to see that you've posted some stuff again, I'm steeling this for my favorites by the way.