at Colvos Passage
In summer months
sun and moon rise from the same spot,
a point northeast of my porch, the place I welcome morning.
Yesterday day breaks over the point.
Paddling on water I meet its path
wondering if natives greeted Mountain and heron on this route.
Kelp spread her tendrils in the current.
Minnows dart through her curls.
Dolphin poise collecting catch.
Deep into night
moon casts light on the same locale.
A thumbnail over the Sound.
Weeks ago I stare over sacred passage
at dawn after vigil at mother’s bed.
Waiting and watching
sun and moon rise from the same spot
at her chest. Clavicles open and close, open and close
like angel’s wings ushering breath.
Intervals at times. I count the seconds between rhythms
like currents beating onto shore.
There, there is no pause.
There is no crossing over the night
weight of glory fills the room.
She reaches to go, glances and hesitates.
Her hand withdraws.
Observing rise and fall, rise and fall
from eventide to morn
I return home to rest.
It is Sunday. Above the passage
an angel wing gathers
as a cloud.
Resting above the row of pines dawn fades
rose to lavender to blue.
The same tall pines that rim the lake brush
their tips along the glassy surface.
A mirror to sky’s pastels.
A lone owl greets morning with one note.
Sparrows chatter in the background with unknown others.
A long train whistle answers from the eastern bank.
A family of ferns waves from the lakeshore.
One tender green shoot peeks behind a splay of mature fronds.
Another bends to the south while others stand straight at attention
greeting the change in light. The sun has risen over the hill.
One phase of the moon has passed
since her house behind ferns was full.
Three generations burst through its seams
followed by stories, laughter, then tears.
A moon waning gibbous is giddy.
Bright before it dims into
last quarter’s sorrow.
In the hours following the final
setting of the stone
dusk fills her house with those succeeding her
who wave from the lakeshore
whose tears fade to smiles.