Life Intersections

We were drugged and dragging then, through a snow-topped mountain, grey and tawny black, thoughts racing, focused a long way back.  Punch, punch, through the crust-topped snow. No skiing today, not with this rocky sun-smeared frozen icy covered trail.

Ice breath hanging in the dry air;  wind cutting down the canyons.

It was the spring thaw that brought us to a new life, forlorn among the daisies. I could not control the sneaky destiny,  harpoon impaling in my chest; your  blood-soaked heart caught the other end, shaking and surviving, throwing back an anchor line.  We were too weak, too meek, too unforeseen, too resonant to disambiguate the situation.  And what to do with all that slack that only tightens when we walk away?

 Letting go;  fingers soaked in pain-stained history;

There was the cornbread life, baked in a round pan, brown edged in the afternoon, pulling away from the iron rim on the wood baked stove.  At the cottage backyard doorway, there you are.  I don’t remember when the red-stained earth cut us apart, or when the green salamander told the future, or when the frost first touched your beard.

Farther away in the caves of France we had a hardy life.  Not so quiet as I am now, not quite so gentle; life was harder.  Then I heard we had a mountain life, with a pine forest, snow falling on the silver-studded carriage with the horse.

Warm breath hanging in the snow-flaked air;   bear rug.

Is there a way to find the thread, to sew new life together?  A complicated sheaf of ropey dreams, threads weaving between us, warping through the woof of time. 

Air soft with pollen in the dandelion wind;   petals hanging everywhere.