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?
Or
the wing
of the Monarch
in the afternoon’s late light?
fourwindowspress 
Absolutely gorgeous poem Ethel. It has a touch of Mary Oliver in my opinion 😊
You’re kind thoughts are appreciated. Ethel
I wanted to see what the light outside of the basement door looked like! 🙂
Russ, I’ll think about a line here. Good comment. Ethel
I could let myself fade away and dream on the words in that last stanza.
Beautiful
I hope you are both well and settled in your new home
David
Having a terrible time adjusting to a small town. Ethel
Hello, Ethel,
I can always rely on your poetry to send me to “Escape” on the brightly lit clouds of imagination…
I appreciate your thoughts. Ethel
You (re)create instant nostalgia, Ethil.
Thank you. Ethel
The soul searching for a place, and you (the you in the poem) propelled across the bay…
This is nice. Ethel. Thanks.
Very beautiful once again, Ethel!
Lovely, lovely, Ethel. I hear that you have moved and so hope you are settling well.