that same lake, the far shore

Image may contain: plant, tree, sky, flower, outdoor and nature

The book of prairie is broad with stories
and platters of bottom land, bald eagles
in the cottonwoods waiting for another day
to fly. This is how we know a winter front
approaches and what we want
is to climb the plateau’s cliffs before the snow
arrives, which we’ll do in four-wheel low,
on a barely discernible path
at mile marker nine, to reach the briar bushes
and game trails, the vista and the fields
combined and tilled impossibly within six feet of the brink.
Up there we’ll almost hear the happy times
of an abandoned homestead a thousand feet below,
music from the femur of a cave bear. We’ll see forever
and yet the town we came from won’t be visible.
It’ll still be a hundred years away.


I’m back.


About redmitten

author of Cracking Geodes Open, Making Good Use of August, and The Peppermint Bottle. poetry editor for IthacaLit. website:

4 responses to “that same lake, the far shore

  1. Goosebumps, but then no surprise. It is my skin’s response to your poetry. It may be my most wise organ. Your words tell me so much about a world that I know not at all. Hurrah! You’re back. xo

  2. Yay! You’re back. Love it1

  3. Good to have you back.

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