This poem appears in our Summer 2016 digital issue. The entire issue is available for download.
As I walk the wind driven winter beach
I bend to gather stones
pummeled, tumbled,
sand-smoothed water-rounded stones
bending like kneeling
a form of prayer
when I realize I am not alone
she walks beside me muttering
what?
lines from a new chapter?
talking to Clarissa?
No, to me she praises the heft of rock
in her hand
the unseen force, patron saint of tears
and for each stone I pocket
she lifts two
we are companionable, she and I,
listening to water pull back over stones
playing them like castanets
now only a light breeze at our heels
but as I turn toward home
to store my collection of treasures
on the windowsill beside my desk
—
SUSAN JACKSON’S first book Through a Gate of Trees was published by CavanKerry Press and her chapbook All The Light In Between by Finishing Line Press. Her new collection is entitled Marking the Hours. Susan and her husband live in Teton County, Wyoming.
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