by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Canadian geese,
gleaning after
the harvesting tractor,
is like
the soul searching
for a place
to enter,
or escape,
into the shafts of light—
like the light
outside the basement door
this morning…

Or was it two maples
that propelled me
across the bay?

the wing
of the Monarch
in the afternoon’s late light?


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

14 responses to “Escape

  1. Absolutely gorgeous poem Ethel. It has a touch of Mary Oliver in my opinion 😊

  2. I wanted to see what the light outside of the basement door looked like! 🙂

  3. I could let myself fade away and dream on the words in that last stanza.


    I hope you are both well and settled in your new home


  4. Hello, Ethel,
    I can always rely on your poetry to send me to “Escape” on the brightly lit clouds of imagination…

  5. You (re)create instant nostalgia, Ethil.

  6. Anna Mark

    The soul searching for a place, and you (the you in the poem) propelled across the bay…

  7. Very beautiful once again, Ethel!

  8. Lovely, lovely, Ethel. I hear that you have moved and so hope you are settling well.

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