Thursday, April 14, 2016

My Man

He lay looking out the window as I sat down by his bed.
"What is it that you're looking at?" and this is what he said.

"Look up there at those mountains, that I have ached to climb.
I just can't seem to make it, with these old broken legs of mine.

There are ragged tops a waiting, meadows in different shades of green,
The monarch elk's a bugling where the wild eagles scream.

There's a five pound lunker, swiming in a deep blue hole.
I know that I could catch him if I could carry up my pole

and turn over a rock in cold wet dirt, and gather a worm or two.
But I'm a little worn out.  I've got some restin' I must do."

So he closed his eyes and I held his hand and I saw him faintly smile.
"I'll get the camp fire burning," he said "and I'll wait for you a while.

There's no need to hurry.  It's okay to take your time.
I'd wait for you forever; my green eyed girl of mine."

I lied on the bed beside him.  He kissed me on my cheek.
I didn't feel another breath, but I didn't need to weep.

For looking out the window, I could see this man, my love.
Climbing up that ragged mountain towards the clear blue sky above.

Susie Whiting~ 2015

1 comment:

  1. I wrote a story years ago about Old Willows, an old horse a native American family had used for years, but had decided he was too old. They decided just to turn him loose. The father takes the horse off into the fields and woods. His small son sneaks along behind them. He watches as the man speaks to the horse and removes the halter. The horse begins to wander off, down into the woods on the other side of the field. As Old Willows disappears down the path the boy's eyes are drawn to the shadow of a cloud climbing up the purple mountain in the distance, like the soul of Old Willows ascending.