Before Dawn

Before dawn cracks

the skein of mist,

and only the wood thrush sings

the aroma of fresh brewed coffee

brings memories

both sweet and bitter.

Moments round and full of juice,

taste on tongue,

redolent scents

wood smoke collecting

in bonfire curls,

her soft milkweed shoulders

and turned out feet,

catalytic grin,

freckled skin,

capacious eyes

artist hands and fingers-

a laugh that lingers

in hollow trees

sylvan declivities

and all along

the rambling ridge side.

A cabin erected in a cloud,

spiral staircase of pine limbs,

milky way collected in steel tins

cracking branches

of hoofed creatures in the wood

kindling stacked in old bins-

the granite pathway she made

glitters with dew,

the pilgrim soul in me

the pilgrim soul in you

Memories of days gone

Fleece, long shorne,

Soft still, yet turning green at the edges-

Clusters of so many blue berries

on so many grey ledges.

Tanned leather

old boots,

rusted saw.

Vintage snow suit hanging in studio,

Unused sewing machine,

threads and needles,

glass beads,

brass settings,

hammered silver

memories soldered to moments

When mist hangs heavy,

saturates tree limbs,

a robin joins the morning matins.

One lone candle flame,

at times calling her name,

and for an instant

the birds quiet

tilt their tender heads,

blink onyx eyes

and resume

their plaintive

and joyful cries.

August 6 2019 Liberty, Maine