Stray Boat in January
       

Walked out into the cold early rain as though I were walking out of my life,
like a door that opened to the January sky, finally free from the body's anchor
and all its baggage of desires, the small, the petty, the stupid wheel of rage.
I stood there in the open field watching the clouds churn from gold to silver,
half moon above the cypress, rain tapping its little chant to a loud swirl of crows,
shouting in a language that eludes me with a goal or place that escapes me.
All night the rain delivered its gift, its sweet blessings to a scorched earth.
All night I dreamed of clouds touching the dark, tracking the shore,
the tall wet firs that lined the path, the sad boat, shoved to the side of the beach.
Something other than the self untied that rope—as it slipped slowly out to sea.

Tweet
Copyright © 2014 Jacqueline Marcus All rights reserved
from New Madrid
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission