Monday, July 13, 2009


At a lakeside cabin built by the bare
hands of her one true love, to whom
she gave herself at eighteen, on a wooded
mountain, an old, smiling woman
beholds fond memories flash
in sun glints on the crystal, blue water
of the placid lake in the distance
below, as Joy caresses savory moments
before letting each slip by. She still sees
herself with her husband as they toiled,
hand-in-hand, through the opportunities
of sunrises and each new midday
challenge. Her eyes sparkle
as she describes a lingering moment
of chance when a mountain lion crept
across the cabin's deck railing,
and how the big cat paused, majestically,
serenely enjoying the lake view stretch
out in the distance. The warmth
in the old woman's voice glows as she
speaks of deer in the snow, flying
squirrels swooping out from trees,
raiding nut caches strewn about
on the deck, and hummingbirds
darting and flitting here and there
as they feed. The lines of time carved
upon the old lady's face inscribe her
story, the creases etched into her hands
reveal the loving struggle she shared
with her husband. The stoop in her walk
from carrying the burden of sacrifice
for her family slows the old woman's
gait as the shuffling strides hint
at autumn's fanciful passing
into the slowly approaching, brilliant
radiance of Joy's winter sunset.

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