journal poem (at Emerson College)

Six o'clock, no one else around
and after these weeks of rain
summer stepping lightly into the garden –

a pelt of dew, one magpie
the evening primrose blowsy, incandescent
P's poetry still knocking at the drumskin of my chest

trails of geese, juvenile voices harsh, untuned
and the morning pond a sky
big enough to drown in and never know it

me leaning against a tree
innocent of motive or intent
waiting for tea to brew

and then without warning     you
walking the summer lawn ahead of me
your footprints fading out at the trees


© Roselle Angwin