Darigan Daily Drop
Before Dawn
Updated: Jan 11
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