by Ethel Mortenson Davis
when we saw a cedar forest
whose trees seemed
as if they were from another world,
we saw a child’s tale—
witches and goblins hiding
behind every tree trunk
on the soft fallen cedar floors.
Since we have moved
to this land of lakes and forests,
my body has moved,
but not my spirit.
It is still circling,
soaring in the sky,
keeping from lighting,
not sure whether
it will land
the Sandhill Crane
circling the marsh,
appearing to be lost.
6 responses to “Lost”
This is beautiful Ethel; i love the way you “soar” effortlessly between subjects yet keep them connected.
I’ve enjoyed this Ethel – both for the beauty of the scene and the poignancy of the personal story.
I’m also fascinated by the structure of its free verse: the lines seem to trace a trajectory; I had not expected the course they would take or where they would end – and they end on the title.
A moving poem, Ethel. I am hoping you will pass from feeling lost in due course. Profound and widespread changes always take a while for me too, more so with the passing years. 🙂
Searching for sandy hills of home can be troubling…
Just beautiful, Ethel. I know I have been long absent … my apologies. I hope you and Thomas and all your family are well. XO
Beautiful Ethel, but sad too.
I hope it is not too long before you begin to feel at home in your new location