watercolor on paper, 2015.
At the place below river bend you will find
the stone sluice, gray with shadows
that morning sun will soon submerge.
Turn north here, and toward
the quartzite mountains.
The wooden gate has fallen and rotted,
but it’s still there,
beneath a rusted galaxy
of dead leaves released
by October wind and
rain.
The climb toward the ridge will be a long one,
but you will arrive
at a grove of great beeches—you will know them by their
copper shimmer.
Reaching this high place, please, if you would like to,
write some words on the empty sky revealed
through and between
the trees above and around you.
I would feel blessed
if you would wait for me here:
I am wandering
somewhere along that ridge,
and my heart is full
to overflow
with the dream of our
reunion.
-Kevin Macneil Brown
