Kris has a one liner for me to prompt this 1st of November and her departure to Kansas
Where is that Damn old crow that lead us to the lake?
Cawed us out from under high school’s umbrella of memory
To lay our feet to the beach and surf gathering stoney stories
Pulled deep from the lake’s bottom like the history of us
Hard and polished by decades of feelings washed by life
In the over and over again sheen of living in the tides
To roll up on the beach of our togetherness and plucked up
For our telling of today from way back then.
When youth had us tangled up and giddy
And the shore of us was empty and waiting
for life to deepen and repeat, wash and cleanse
We are blues and agates, and petoskey, and shell on white grit
Called to the beach by that damn trickster’s caw
Picking up where we left ourselves to be found again
Together, to remember our rawness and lust
Now polished soft and smooth to be gather and shared