I took a walk up the hill yesterday.
It was a little muddy for sneakers.
I could feel the chill
Coming up through my soles.
At the top I turned
And was surprised to see
That the sky to the west,
Backlighting the hills,
Was the same intense orange
As the posted sign
In the field.
Instead of heading back down
I kept walking a bit,
Glancing over my shoulder
At the sunset
Now fading to rose.
The pond too surprised me;
It was the color of red wine,
Black cherry. . .
The curve of the apple tree,
Rooted in the bank,
Joined to its reflection,
Formed the perfect bracket
For my restless spirit.
(I might have kept walking.)
But soon it would be dark.
There is a certain feeling
These days that I can’t seem to out-walk,
A certain surrender
To the work that lies ahead.
Work that has little to do
With who wins elections
But more to do with
Being surprised by
Wine-colored water
And sunsets that linger
Just long enough
To light the way home.
— Gary Lindorff
GARY LINDORFF, TCBH!’s resident poet, is an artist, musician, poet and counselor / dream-worker who practices shamanic techniques, and who lives in rural Vermont with his wife Shirley and two dogs. He can be reached at maleotter@gmail.com