wilderness unknown

for the both of you.

the air here is always damp-
wind whipped ocean-current-swells,
over-hang of clouds,
rain drops that weigh down the sky
too many puddles, never enough time to dry.

I'm wandering, I know
as I walk these streets
wondering if your ghost will pass by
mostly, I'm pretending
I'd recognize your eyes when you smile
(pretending that's still of use to you)
pretending you'd remember the last time you saw me,
pretending that I do too...

the memories littered throughout my life
have become so sparse- as if someone
is sweeping them up
no more than scattered leaves, discarded debris
lining the back ally-ways of my mind.

you always said you weren't sure you'd know how to live
in a city of open sky-
said you preferred to stay hedged in
away from wilderness unknown
   (forest and field, concrete and steel)
it surrounds our careful architecture,
keeps birds on the wire...
so dark the waters, so wild the hills that reach the sky.

still, every once in awhile,
I really wish that you'd stop by.  

waiting for rain

you do not turn this wilderness
into a garden
but there is new life in me

and while the earth is
still too dry
to plant these seeds...
I hold them out, I hold them open

and wait for rain

growth

celebrate-
this one blossom
from this one tree
begets fruit.