My Friend

reflection: Shaker Meeting House
Canterbury, NH

My Friend, My Dearest,

Dearest Friend

March 21, 2018

march blows and sets low

her wind chill so that

going out to meet her

face to face means bracing

a scarf to the lips and to

the cheeks, she’s being

demanding and we need

Jochebed (mother of Moses)
Franklin Simmons

(if we see ourselves being

in her for any moment

longer than scraping

the car) gloves that actually

make your blood stay

where it is in your fingers

instead of pulling away

instead of burning ironic no?

in the profane cold.

But she’s honest, isn’t she,

March.  She sees us through our winter

regret and begins

to lengthen our days, to make of

the face of the earth as it turns
low as for someone who’s been

waiting a long time and is

just about to throw it all

in and if it weren’t for the wind

if it weren’t for the ice

and snow and the broken

trees limbs down in it all

I’d be on my knees.  And you know

maybe I should, maybe

I bloody should.  She has

returned it for us to be able

to touch.  What better?

Coming in from the road...
Shaker Meeting House
Canterbury, NH