Turning Quietly Into Night
2009 Oil on canvas
Here You Are
All day you waited, trudged
along city blocks
past the hard shoulders of strangers,
thinking only of this bend in the path.
Your feet disappear beneath amber ripples
as you sink to the grass. Whorls
of mud silt over your toes and up
to the surface. Sun lingers along the clouds,
sly, keeping your secrets.
The oak must have thickened its bark here
for a hundred years,
season after season
against the weather,
against the deer,
against crimson vines
coiling around its base
and cloaking the trunk.
But it still spreads
into the sky.
The creek tucks into the meadow,
then ripples and twists into the grove.
This is where you stretch your reach.
Here, you are.
Heather M. Moore Niver