‘At Henry Cowell State Park, Early Winter’ Appears in phren-Z Magazine, Winter 2012

 

In fall,
the Big Leaf maples warm
                    in color,
and in time will let go
their dying leaves.
By December, the ungiving stalks
of the American Sweetgum are bare
                                    and still,
                                    even in wind.

We walk beside the woodyard
late one afternoon,
and my mother says,
      “The leaves are turning
          on the alders,”
                       and nods.

Her skin, the best clock,
           a sundial in the angled light;
I do not know her younger years,
or the likeness of her gait at my age,
but I can recognize crow’s feet
at the edge of her eyes,
the furrowed hands
          that have bathed me,
                       cradled me.

I drop a glove in a puddle of rainwater,
          and bending to remove it,
see the reflection of my mother’s figure
see the levy of years,
the unexpected wither of skin,
          as if waking to see
          that it has snowed
                       overnight.

 

 

Published by phren-Z Magazine, 2012
c. Bri Bruce (Author) 2012

12 thoughts on “‘At Henry Cowell State Park, Early Winter’ Appears in phren-Z Magazine, Winter 2012

  1. Your poem has a real ease and beauty about it, a simplicity that makes it possible to be right there with you, looking at your mother, and walking in the woods. Lovely details. Your delicate photos are also very artistic.
    Thanks for taking time to read my blog “Just East of Crazy Land: Adventures in Parenting.” I’m honoured! All the best for a happy 2014.

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