by Kathleen Norris
Why do you stand looking up at the sky? --Act 1:11
It wasn't just wind chasing
thin, gunmetal clouds
across a loud sky.
And it wasn't the feeling that one might ascend
on that excited air,
rising like a trumpet note,
and it wasn't just my sister's water breaking,
her crying out,
the downward draw of blood and bone...
It was all of that,
mud and new grass
pushing up through melting snow,
the lilac in bud by my front door
bent low
by last week's ice storm.
Now the new mother, that leaky vessel,
begins to nurse her child,
beginning the long good-bye.
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