9 Moons Ago

Posting the Letter

The postscript is hastily scrawled across the bottom of the page.
A slap-dash sealing of the envelope.
She scurries to find the extra stamp.
(Just in case. Just In case.)
Two days have passed already.
There will be no allowance for yet another “letter, never sent”.
She tosses some papers aside, then recalls the exact location -Ah ha!

A dash to get the lead, and the dog jumps in high circles with joy.
No need to convince him to pick up the pace.
Before dark! Before dark!

They make their way up the hill.
A good release of energy.
A building up of good excitement.
This symbolic first letter.
Many more. Many more.
No longer a lost art.
Keep this tradition alive.

Success.
Posted.
Posted!
One down.
The rest is history.

The night -the night is closing around them-
At the clearing with long golden grass
She relents and lets the dog sniff around as he pleases.
Casts her gaze over the quiet hills.
House lights intermittently dot the landscape and
The dark brown horse meanders up to the barn.

There is no brilliant setting of sun this night.
Hot and hazy, a peachy drift of cloud clings to the blue grey hills.
The red and gold leaf litter that softens her footfall reminds her of Autumn.
Not yet. Not yet.
The cicadas are not loud enough.

The silvery Eucalyptus seems reflective, as the shadows deepen.
The crunch of the gravel on the drive
Beneath her slowing steps.
She is listening.
Listening to the possums playing in the trees.
To the horses breaking off the long dry grass in large mouthfuls.

Through the pines. The last of the warm sunlight,
Peeking between the silhouettes of these trees
Grown tall. Tall and thin, like giant matchsticks,
Climbing up the steep hill.
The house greets them with a pleasant, inviting glow.

A dash to the backyard, to take the washing down.
It is still and peaceful and dark.
The neighbour’s dog trots over to them, happily.
She detects unfamiliar growling coos.
Her eyes widen with wonder.
There they sit on the branch,
So close! Oh, So close!
Two owls, sharing a good conversation.
Do they know there is a spy?
For the dogs in the yard are unusually silent.

QUACK! Quack!
The silence broken by the playful family of ducks.
She laughs out loud.
A great splashing on the pond. The owls take flight.
Mother duck chides the three young ones who chase
Each other back and forth across the water.
As the dogs begin their barking,
The five birds on the pond make their way to safety.

Quiet once more. She gathers up the sweet smelling clothes.
A heavy sigh of content.
To be aware is so important.
Do people know this?
She coaxes the dogs inside for supper.
Come along, come along.
A prayer of Thanksgiving
Before a late night summer meal.

-A.L. Miller
January 31, 2005

This entry was posted on Monday, January 31st, 2005 at 2:40 pm and is filed under General, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.