Drakes Summit

Bob Anderson Issue: Section:

outside my window coastal fog shrouds the ridge
gray silk veils the steepled treetops
vaporous drift billows and puffs
vulture and raven vie for feast

inside my cats purr has turned silent
her dreams stretched across the fabric in my lap
she sinks into the shallow edges protected
by my empty house of wood and wools

floors made of cedar, stained red beams
two shelves filled with dusty verbs and nouns
that have touched red mountain
jumped naked in cold streams
words that have had many lovers

the single oak chair hand-carved with its scalloped rim
holds us both against gravity’s wooden grain
scratched now by days of silence and desire
meadows memory of sunlight and wildflowers
the scent of white sage when it meets fire
my own life remembering what it loves most

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