 The tawny cat stalks and searches,
but often on a cliff waits and watches. He’s a coiled spring on his haunches. I pass below in the bright new snow and there I see his paw marks in a row. He’s above, somehow I know, and we are silent in our respect. © 2018 Larry Kilham 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 flapping overhead, “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... We knew life is forever if we are happy to the end. (c) 2017 Larry Kilham The aspens grow straight up
Straight to the sun Touching the sky Everyone else fills the spaces below. We humans disappear among these giants. © 2017 Larry Kilham |
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