=

×

edward palmquist

×

September Ashes

2008

High up on a hill
the one we used to climb
when we were children
I alone now sit.
Around me is a powder
too white to be sand
ashes that taste of bitter Septembers
countless comings and goings
that have led me back to this place
while you are somewhere else.
If only the winter snow would come
I could embrace the Earth
and its inherent numbness.
And then come spring
the season of blind forgiveness
I can only hope that like the frost
the ash and myself
can melt away
and lose this terrible perspective.

More Writing
View More