On the Way Home from the Wildlife Sanctuary

On the Way Home from the Wildlife Sanctuary
A poem by Dale Rosenkrantz

You found no arrows in the rainy forest

– Elizabeth McKim

On the way home from the
wildlife sanctuary I found you
curled on the bottom of a cloud
like hair stuck to a bar of soap. I
couldn’t reach you but I felt the
arrow of your rain. ‘Keep it
simple,’ you said, but a good
mud like old times mixed with
yellow-orange leaves sticks to
my sneakers.

They tore down the bridges to
the old neighborhood but I still
feel the snow falling on the pale
lashes of your hazel eyes. ‘Isn’t
that something,’ you said
blinking, and put your hand in
my wide palm comfortable
as the TV sofa worn smooth by
all the afternoons we didn’t say
anything.

I wish I had a square of that
sunlight in my pocket. I’d unfold
it now and make a bundle of
your rainy arrows and pale
green snow for the ice box
that always needs defrosting.
It’s simple, but isn’t that
something?

Copyright © 2015 Dale Rosenkrantz. All rights reserved.