Out walking, looking for a poem

I remembered chores

I should have done

But the day was almost spent

 

The poem hung inside my mind

Like morning fog

Remnants of dreams

Dissolving as the light changed

 

Out walking, standing in places

I had not stood

I waited for the poem to form

Ignoring time – ignoring “shoulds”

 

Deeper into the autumn woods

Inhaling sunlight, fading fast

I came upon deserted toys

A tree house built by little hands

 

With carpet remnants

Nailed fast

Into the wood

A broken chair that in my kitchen

 

Once had stood

And that baby blanket

I wondered where

It had gone

 

Long deserted, faded now it hung

Where once a

Door had been

My poem was there instead.

 

 

By Diane E. Dockum

Excerpted from “Just Beyond The Hill” ©2008