... it has been said that time heals all wounds ... seasons change ... the more things change, the more they stay the same ..." I love you but I'm not in love with you " ... there is a " cliche du jour " for every occasion ...
Well here is a new one...well spun in a different way ..." we did the things that we learned we shouldn't do again ~ what wasn't learned from mistakes, we will make them " ...
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I watched as you disappeared following the infinite rails, headed for unknown final destinations, far beyond the distant horizon…
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The Great Horned Owls
hoot willfully for hours
breaking the silence of
a cloudy and humid summer night.
The windows to the
outside world are wide open
allowing the sweetness
of the firs and pines fragrance
to permeate the stale
bedroom air.
The conversation
between the owls
sounds like a long
distance phone call
in which time pauses
between
the short awkward
sentences.
One sounds as if she
was in the next room.
As their unique
majestic chatter
echoes off the giant
trees,
as the other yearns to
be near
from a country mile
away.
He answers her questions
willingly
from the stillness on
other side of the draw;
up the treed hill
overlooking the rippling brook
where it enters the cool
spring water
trickling over the
mossy rock dammed pond .
From the north, beyond
the crest of the hill,
a new sound is heard in
the night’s darkness
hushing the flirtatious
owls lullaby.
It is the sound of the
distant trains, down in the valley,
speeding though the
night on the infinite rails.
Once again from this vantage point,
I count crossing horn blasts like
sheep
First whistles are
barely heard from great distance
evolving into an undeniable
ending to the peaceful solitude.
A dream ruining, eyes
wide open, ruminating noise.
Finally fading
into the night air restoring silence
after 28 horn blasts
warning all creatures and mankind
that the train from
somewhere passed in the night.
Crossing crossroads
through great physical and cultural distances
traveling under the cover of night to nameless destinations.
The Great Horned Owls
were silenced
by a thick aura
hovering in the atmosphere,
a stillness filled with
heavy nighttime air.
Weighed down by
poignant sentimental emotion,
the silence of ardent
reverie replaced their
eerie calling
with a heavy thick haze
you could cut with a
knife.
I reminisced quietly in
my mind
over that exact sound
scenario’s feeling of déjà vu,
knowing I've been here
before through many seasons past...
Remembering our time
together...
As you lie next to me
with only a musky
cotton sheet
partially covering your
sleeping beauty.
Listening to the
silence
broken by the wonders
of nature.
I watched you countless
times;
content to be in the
moment
as I enjoyed the melody
of your sensual
exhaled breath as you
slept.
Willingly, I silently
counted
owls and trains...
contemplating
the loss of this fading
moment
mindful time waits for
no one
while watching your
peaceful slumber
knowing one day soon
you would vanish to be free.
I watched as the red sky dawned
as you boarded that train.
Abandoned and left behind
with the burden of these roots
grounded in the bed rock of my history ;
I gazed hopelessly blinded by the rising sun,
as you
disappeared following the infinite rails,
headed for unknown final destinations,
far beyond the distant horizon …
© 2011, 2012, 2013 ... Harlon
Rivers
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