A Poem

Responding to Shadows in the Summertime

I was cutting ripe peaches
when this poem came to me.

It spoke of the shadow of death
following me into the warm water
of summer by the creek
in the redwoods.

I nearly walked off the edge
of the summit
as the fog covered
my tears
in kindness
so as not
to shame me.

But I didn't.
I keep walking until
I felt the sun kiss
my aging hands
as I reached
for the puppy
cradled near my heart.

I could breathe again
watching the thick dust
accept simple paw prints
and when the hawk screamed
at me
I was unafraid.

I felt her all around me
and next to me
and inside of my lungs
as they struggled to get air
while I climbed the steep part
clapping for the pup
to keep following.

Death's shadow is not so visible
under my eyes.
She is dwelling
in my decisions
my hopes
and my laughter
at the silliest things.

The smell of the puppy
has been described as warm coffee
by you know who.

I am going to finish
cutting ripe peaches
and let this poem
go.