Taos, Where the Red Willows Grow
Early Feburary
The golden dried grasses
Along the road
Reach for me
Silvery grey skeltons
Of leafless trees
Reminience of old lace
Still mourn the passing of fall
In the morning
Snow on the mountains
Like powdered sugar
Dusted on cupcakes
The afternoon sky clear and blue
Like the sound of a bell
Or like water...
You can see all the way to the bottom
The red willows grow along the Rio Grand
Whispering in winter’s chill
Like your words for Hayes
“Meet me in the mountains”
You carried his body there
Later, returned with a hand carved marker
I wonder...did you go there
Was he waiting
Waging his tail in greeting
A boy and his dog
Who can say
When it comes to life and death
Or perhaps, it is the intention
Wish or dream
After death in the “who knows?
Will you meet again, the ones you loved
On a distant shore, in a foreign land
Follow your heart
To the edge of the world
And there you will be
Where the red willows grow
Feburary 9, 2018
9 comments:
I love the peaceful setting of your poem, Annell, with the 'leafless trees / Reminiscent of old lace' that 'Still mourn the passing of fall'; the way you describe it at different times in the day; and the thread of sorrowful mourning of the boy for his dog that is shot through the whole poem.
Your poem is reminiscent of "Where the Red Fern Grows".
I like these two lines which focused the poem for me: "You carried his body there
Later, returned with a hand carved marker"
Red willows has such a wonderful unique sense... I think it makes the place and moment very special
I enjoyed where this took me.
ZQ
Follow your heart
to the edge of the world...
Captivating thoughts on life and death and the journeys in between from the land of enchantment.
Follow your heart
To the edge of the world
And there you will be
Where the red willows grow
To follow one's heart would mean better chances of success. Perhaps it is so!
Hank
My new favourite of yours, my friend. The imagery is so beautiful, and the tale told so moving. I can see the boy/man taking his dog into the mountains they both loved, then returning.........can feel the wondering: did they meet again after death? With everything in me, I do hope they did. This is a wonderment of a poem. One I would have loved to have written. But to do that, I would have had to have lived a loss so profound I doubt I could have weathered it.
There is yearning but also a kind of peace in these beautiful words. (K)
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