Fierce Blessings

The nights I couldn't sleep

I went looking for you

in cool grass,

searched for footprints

in the slant

of green blades.

That whole summer

I followed the shoreline

of memory,

listening for your heartbeat

among whispers of reeds,

the wash of waves

against ancient contours

of rock.

But I never heard it,

and on the other side of the lake,

far from the children's eyes,

I reached into

the invisible cracks

in our loyalties,

let them engulf me,

the way shadows swallow sunlight.

I recognized the lapses

in loving,

heard the eyelid of owl

move up and down,

the voices of insects

begin their night-time chatter,

until finally I could follow my own footprints

to our side of the lake.

The children had abandoned a bucket

on the beach

and fraternities of frogs jumped from captivity.

In the trembling air;

our shared dreams grew wings

and joined the exodus.

The last night

I lit driftwood on the beach,

watched the embers

exhaust themselves

in the night air,

nestled in the warmth

of fire

and of children.

As I drove back

into civilization,

the pines still clung to me,

their scent entering my pores,

carrying what remained

of summer and the lake.

City lights illuminated the horizon,

their expanding glow a giant moon

of forgiveness,

setting up small explosions

of fierce blessings.