Lately roots awaken from slumber
Memories disperse whispers past
Silent picture of her in a blue dress
Running the fields like a promise.
Autumn matter releases
And in the spring floats in seedlings
Like her spirit of stone and brook
Her fields
Loves I did not yearn
And yet we correspond
As does love when it reaches far
Giving no reason for lengths of time.
Lately her past is a promise
The possibility of all I carry forth
That won’t be lost
Real butter on toast each morning
Steaming coffee and real cream
Her life enough to build my own
When in the early winter I reach for the knitted blanket
Still stowed with the linen
since we were kids.
Roots awoken keep spreading
The ground roots unbeknownst to my treading feet
Sheltered in old hikers boots
When and where many pasts come to meet.