Not yet mid-March,
and it’s sixty-four degrees, I
can hardly contain my desire
to stop at the side of the road
& walk empty-handed over old
ties, over tracks that separate
gravel lots from beaches
to stand before Ontario’s
chilly quiet.
I have been numb for weeks.
It’s my defense against
the power of illness.
I have kept my distance; yet, I
can’t resist floating my palms
in the lake’s momentum— slow
waves move bits of stone
and shell and bone
beneath my fingertips.
I lift my hands & watch
them drip an image of
departure—my eyes
looking beyond me
into the face of
the returning sky.
M. J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 29 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: https://mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
Eunoia Review 