From somewhere near yet gone
the sweeping rush of memories
like wind among the fallen leaves
like waves against the shore
then gone again

Today, driving to work,
lights strung along the highway,
destinations mere twinkles,
I remembered:

Driving the Maine Pike to Boston
a pale sun in a milky grey sky,
trees gaunt and late winter bare
cars rimed with salt,
tapping time to the radio
another traveller in line
when suddenly, amidst the ordered flow,
a car going the wrong way
parting the traffic sea
leaving us scattered
mere aimless flotsam
caught by a rogue wave’s pull

Moments, sharp as broken glass
when seeing and believing disengage,
when the kaleidoscope shifts,
no-way moments
out of synch, out of nowhere,
when chaos, long gone and buried,
Sudden and immediate,
these moments that birth new realities.

The narrowest of margins separate us
from the unconceived and unimagined;
places you read about in myth,
other peoples’ headlines.
But, amidst the rustle of stirring memory
the barrier is breeched,
and, now and then
we step across.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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