The mornings sky
Is heavy with
Cream like my
Mother shaved off
Milk and added
Strawberries for breakfast
Thick with dollops
Of clouds the
Blueest of blueberries
Begins to peak
Through as they
Did when I
Was a child
Not knowing my
Mother buried them
A sweet surprise
And so you’re
Silent and faraway
Like the missing
Last few pages
Of favorite stories
I make up
An ending fit
For a princess
Because I fear
That the way
We really end
Is the way
That we are
I remember that
Whistle you made
At me down
That one dark
Wet lonely street
Years ago hailing
Me like a
Cab that sound
Causing me to
Turn towards you
Ears cocked like
A dog or
A child at
His mother’s voice
How’d I know
Then that you
Were calling me
Home at last
And so the
Sled slid down
The hill absent
Any riders careening
To the bottom
And splintering sending
Pieces in directions
Unable to put
Together remnants I
Decided to sled
Alone knowing that
At least I
Am stronger and
Knowing that I
Can pick myself
Up together unlike
Us the sled
And so we
Made it through
The pass between
Interested and involved
A scary canyon
Filled with uncertainty
Coming out the
Other side avoiding
Boulders of suspicion
And jealousy we’re
Now clear to
The valley of
Possibility of what
We might be
Less frightening and
Calmer we exhale
Knowing that we
Are traversing this
Thing called life
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 