A poem about last wishes and a life of love.
This is a kind of living will, which describes an ordinary place in nature made extraordinary by the memories of a romantic bond.
The poem rhymes and carries itself in rhythm in a way unlike most of the ones I write. Each stanza has five lines – lines 1 and 5, as well as lines 2 and 4, rhyme with each other – though it can be read without mind to all that. I hope you enjoy it.
Uncut Stone Find for me our lace of shade crocheted by willow leaves, spinning see-through, feather-veined, shimmering yellow as they weave and trim the mossy glade. Hear for me the very air carry back an echoed shriek of our long-grown little boys red-cheeked in the creek that still laughs with them there. Feel for me our uncut stone to the back field glacier-rolled, rose quartz so magnificent and but for us unseen, untold, spending eternity here alone. Guard for me the pheasants’ nest where we kissed among the trees, in bobbing daubs of goldenrod adorned with pollen-laden bees, and lay me there to rest.