Hammered gold mountains
Against a lilac sky.
A lone hawk looks on
From his perch on the
Twisted tree branch.
My rocking chair moves
Back and forth
Carrying my thoughts
Through rivulets of time…
Cinnamon toast in Texas.
Orange ferals in California,
The red Ford Fairlane in Utah.
Lavender dresses with
Scratchy petticoats.
Time-worn hands holding
A newspaper from 1957.
Back and forth, back and forth.
The hammered gold mountains glow
As my rocker sways with
My tumbling memories.
Back and forth…
I try to connect all the
Unconnectable dots.
Moments in time swirl
And evaporate,
Rearrange themselves in
This new moment.
The lone hawk flies away,
The mountains glow.
I want to hold on to
This quiet moment
Before it slips away like all the other moments,
Because there is nothing to anchor it.
Because it’s new.
Back and forth…
But yesterday, last year,
Last decade, last century
Were new once, too.
Why the need for an anchor now?
Back and forth…
To be “as a little child”
Requires only to – be.
To exist in the beauty of each moment.
Perhaps the memories were
Created when my mind was fully
Present in a capsule of time and space.
Present in my grandmother’s kitchen
In an early East Texas morning.
Present for riding to school in
Daddy’s shiny new car.
Present for my aunt’s wedding
And for the beloved orange cats
Greeting me on the porch.
And present as I rock here,
Back and forth
Looking at hammered gold
Mountains against a lilac sky.
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