Even the birds
Observe the weekend
Few are singing
Less are flying
It’s quiet here
Except for marsh
Frogs, cicadas and
Crickets car tires
Kick up gravel
Resonating like firecrackers
Or like the
Tearing of rolls
Of paper towels
A human voice
In the distance
Reminds me that
I’m still me
Quietly right here
In life and
Love we often
Run away from
What we are
And choose what
We are not
Eventually both catch
Up with us
Surrendering we fall
Defeated but just
Until our heart
Takes its first
Full deep breath
At long last
Alive
This morning I
Sat outside after
The rain suddenly
I felt a
Drop of water
Hit my sleeve
At first perplexed
I looked up
To see nothing
Eventually more drops
Arrived and I
Began to anger
But move I
Did not anger
Turned to acquiescence
Turned to acceptance
That I was
Meant to be
Wet that day
So goes love
So goes life
And a bird
Brought back a
Branch filled with
Leaves like a
Talisman of peace
Bringing hope to
The sailor on
The open sea
There’s something there
Beyond his sight
It wasn’t land
But hope hope
That he’s finally
Found a place
To anchor down
And sailed he
Did until he
Stopped and declared
This is home
Like an explorer
On the bow
Of a ship
My eyeglass scans
The horizon for
A speck of
Land and there
I’ve found it
In my mind
A place a
Thousand miles away
New and uncharted
To me a
Place of uncertainty
A place of
Natives and new
Friends a place
Called Santa Fe
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 