To RF, October 28 2012

This is the moon soft bright Last Night

I, looking up, small and amazed,

Her eye on you leaving.

The west coast shuddered, tension 

 leaving the earth like a sigh, your breath.

The east coast wearing its fall garb

Yellow, copper, bronze, carnelian, and burning bush red

Textured here and there with the soft grey fringes of early wintersleepers

And the everdark forest, a pageant marking time.

 

On the lonely beach this morning, patches of blue promise above,

I met three First Nations women, one from BC, one from Saskatchewan, 

and the last from Manitoba. 

"Is that an eagle?"

 It's wings worked strong, rowing deliberate strokes over our heads. 

"Yes"

"A blessing," she said, "blessings on you."

"And on you, too."

 

 

Late afternoon, the clouds close in and touch the trees,

Preparing your wake with whirling winds,

The sky will cry for three days

For the world has lost a lover.

With every poem I read aloud, 

And every time I pass your door,

With the sounds in each field,

And the silence of each rainbow,

I will feel the blessing of your presence

And be glad.