Pines stand straight, arms folded;
fog hovers over their shoulders.
They watch me in silence.
I am in no hurry.
I walk a familiar road.
My destination is here,
the house run down, the yard cluttered,
no woman to watch the spreading disorder.
I know her grave on the hill.
He’s returning now.
His dog barks along the trail.
The old man nods and welcomes me.
I admire his simple hospitality.
He removes his wet shoes,
stretches his feet to the fire,
his breathing barely disturbs the air;
each heartbeat is a spent treasure.
The picture on the mantle smiles,
his head sinks.
He dreams her in his sleep.
I study his shoes as they dry.
Every crack and twist of leather
recounts his journey, recalls its weathers.
I fit myself into them and recognize again
the peculiar shape of a life.
He wakes, stares, comprehends.
Outside his dog begins to howl.
The fire dies, the picture fades;
his shoes by the chair
are carved epitaphs of silence.
Our footsteps as we climb the hill
are raindrops on winter leaves.
This is awesome and a bit haunting. It is a timeless description, to me, of country living. My grandfather was born in Virginia. Her returned there one day and happen to visit an old man who lived in a barn. What you've described in your poem, takes me there to my grandfather's side. It's just how I imagined it would be.
.... every crack and twist of leather recounts his journey... not unlike each line etched by time upon our face. I really, really like this piece.Eloquent. Blessings, J'nia
I have enjoyed the reading of "Errand" for its contents and poetic aroma of wisdom.
I did get a flower in the last stanza:
"The fire dies, the picture fades;
his shoes by the chair
are carved epitaphs of silence.
Our footsteps as we climb the hill
are raindrops on winter leaves."
I salute You, Poet.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Reviewed by 000 000 (Reader)
Reviewed on November 19, 2008
The first time I read this..I had a picture in my mind. The second reading continued the picture...powerful yet eloquent writing.
CarolHawks
David, this, also, is written with such reverance. You tell the story...quietly and respectfully...almost in a hushed silence. It is one of the things that stands out the most for me in your writing.You also have the ability to make your readers feel as though they are there...maybe peeking through a window, witnessing a private moment. I know I have said it before...but, I am such a fan.
I love this quiet, hushed write. They say Death is no respecter of persons, but this one does respect-- deeply.
I love all the muffled sounds int his write-- the h's and w's-- the f's and d's. It's quiet when read aloud as well, but it has an echoing impact.
With the dog howling, I think I recognize you grandfather here, and your grandmother's grave on the hill. I wish he came to all of us as sweetly. --Charlie
In boulders around distant and solitary mountain paths they should etch those magical words of yours "Carved epitaph of silence" because instead of an howling dog, there will be a coyote doing it somewhere.
Needed to read a few times, the way this poem was written is like that intense light calling the moth.
Under Amber Skies, written by author and poet Jill Eisnaugle, is a wonderful collection of rhyming poetry guaranteed to please every reader. In this, her second book, she writes of new friendships kindled, as well as old friendships solidified. She g
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
I have enjoyed the reading of "Errand" for its contents and poetic aroma of wisdom.
I did get a flower in the last stanza:
"The fire dies, the picture fades;
his shoes by the chair
are carved epitaphs of silence.
Our footsteps as we climb the hill
are raindrops on winter leaves."
I salute You, Poet.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
CarolHawks
beautiful and beautifully controlled writing:
The picture on the mantle smiles,
his head sinks.
He dreams her in his sleep.
Thank you for this. -gene. (sorry I was so long getting here)
Cryssa
Cheers,
Dan
beautifully thought through and with detail and mood of a quiet richness, the controlled expression so worthwhile. Excellent!
John
I love all the muffled sounds int his write-- the h's and w's-- the f's and d's. It's quiet when read aloud as well, but it has an echoing impact.
With the dog howling, I think I recognize you grandfather here, and your grandmother's grave on the hill. I wish he came to all of us as sweetly. --Charlie
Needed to read a few times, the way this poem was written is like that intense light calling the moth.
Georg