Comfort is the old and familiar
bridging heaven and earth.
Comfort is shade and ripe apples,
pastel patterns and companions dozing.
Here are the old apple trees
as the generations of the dead
with knurled limbs reaching,
trying to tell us something.
We look for tender bud newborns
- the fruit of those we know -
or dead brown in Fall's frost
with a new cycle in the offing.
The cosmos accommodates
these episodes in time
- from here we know not how -
and there's rebirth in the Spring.
(c) 2018 Larry Kilham
There is a fit between earth and sky.
It is the jagged trees
It is the blowing grass
It is the spittled sea
We seek to conjoin heaven and earth.
Your parents lie still in the meadow.
Their memories reach out
They try to smile
They lie mute
We ask them, “Where is the way?”
How do gulls, ospreys, and sparrows
know what to do?
From their forebears?
From their DNA?
All the creatures somehow know.
Before we rest in our grassy plot
and see our offspring
“Listen!” we whisper
as they fly between earth and sky.
© 2018 Larry Kilham
As a child on a farm
I knew the totality of creation
(and in that wonder life had no end).
The seasons and the extremes
represented all that we knew
and all that might be known...
Gazing at life in a pond,
the dew on a summer meadow,
the tundra on a winter beach...
life is forever
if we are happy to the end.
(c) 2017 Larry Kilham