By Andrea Walker
Pensacola Branch, Florida
Yesterday, an old friend died, big brother to several of us
when we were teens.
This morning as I walk,
I am warmed by March temperatures.
Two doors down a cute little dog
runs from across the street wagging his tail furiously,
stretching tiny paws up to my knees.
Louie, his owner calls. He’s busy, I say pointing to the tree trunk Louie now sniffs.
Down the sidewalk a pink camellia lies
where it has fallen from its bush.
Around the corner a flock of robins pecks
in the dry, winter-brown, grass,
hurry ahead of me from one lawn to the next.
A pair of brilliant cardinals dances an airy ballet
through bare grey limbs against a spring blue sky.
Unaware of February’s cold,
daffodils now bloom in abundance.
I turn toward the sparkling bay,
enjoy the easy trek downhill.
An empty black sedan sits in Chimney Park,
its owner perhaps seeking solitude as I am.
I step across the railroad tracks,
through the narrow thicket of woods and brush,
to the shoreline of golden sand
where I have the beach to myself.
Low tide allows me to walk farther than usual.
I tread on wet hard-packed sand,
pausing for a closer look at
a partially buried mussel shell, still intact.
Where a tidal pool has retreated,
a shorebird has left six-inch prints.
I pause to gaze at the calm surface,
the horizon,
the future,
the past.
After a moment, I turn back on the cormorants
who haven’t noticed me,
back through the small thicket,
back over the railroad tracks.
The sedan is gone.
I trudge up the hill and back to my street.
The daffodils look brighter.
The robins still hurry ahead of me.
Bright red nandina berries I didn’t notice before
stand in stark contrast to a variegated shrub.
I stoop, carefully pick up the fragile pink camellia. Louie is
nowhere to be seen, safe inside.
At home, I make plans to go to my friend’s funeral,
float the camellia in a crystal bowl
on the kitchen table.
This poem speaks beautifully of the comfort and reassurance that the continuing patterns, the ebb and flow of nature, can bring us.
Claire Massey
NLAPW Poetry Editor
Lovely. I walked with you.
Thanks so much to all of you who shared your thoughts on this poem. I appreciate your support.
A VERY TOUCHING LOVELY PIECE AND A TRIBUTE TO A GOOD & DEAR FRIEND.
THANKS FOR SHARING.
I felt like I was walking with you Andrea. This is such a lovely poem that emphasizes all that goes on around us when we take the time to look. I’m sure it was a healing experience upon hearing about your friend’s passing.
The long pensive walk, with its acute observation of abundant, beautiful life, contrasts so well with the sudden starkness of loss . . . and suggests that the birds, the dog, the blossoms, the sand and sea help to heal us.
so beautifully descriptive, almost like a painted picture of your feelings
I love this poem by Andrea Walker! It really speaks to me … partly because she sets the scene and I know exactly where this is and partly because of what it says! Life goes on and we must appreciate every moment and every thing around us. Thank you , Andrea for sharing ! Please check it out on WordPress.com
Andrea, this is just absolutely beautiful. I took that walk with you every step.