Acceptance
Breakers tipped with foam and gold,
a clean sharp wind,
the roll and dip and creak
of a sailing ship--
horizon everywhere--
We were together then.
Mountain snow
falls deep into hollows,
across rutted roads, bending pines,
making of land another sea,
silence broken only by the wind
or a limb's whisper as it falls.
Deer lift their heads.
Mist swirls above the river,
the souls of the dead they say.
Marsh birds call muffled questions
above lapping water.
Sound is a slow drum
that becomes the rain.
Sue Scalf
http://www.members.aol.com/poetscalf
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