by Ethel Mortenson Davis
They were both
hanging by threads,
trying to hold together,
exhausted,
talking to people:
Lost yet another child–
But those threads
will widen,
grow strong
when they decide to live
again,
for the living–
like the herd of deer at dusk
we saw
when we drove
back across the white frozen fields
in a clearing,
on the side of a steep hill,
clinging to threads
in a trampled field
surrounded by deep winter snows.
fourwindowspress 
These lines: “But those threads | will widen,” feel as though they are the fulcrum of the poem, Ethel. Beautifully written. It touches the soul, very gently.
Poignant… the threads, both fragile and strong…. sad, yet so very beautifully written.
Love it Ethel. I love the way you connect two subjects together with ease in your poetry.
Wow…yes, like that. Even our clearings can be meager.
Acknowledging the fragility of our lives and relations paradoxically can serve to strengthen them. Another gem, Ethel.