The Lake at Sunset (poem)

Lake Washington, c. 2012

The Lake at Sunset

A poem on my mother's death, October 8, 2014.

Just this morning the sun rose sparkling on the lake

and as the day warmed the small birds returned

to the feeder outside your window.

You opened your eyes as I embraced you

and raised your arm bone-thin with infirmity

to rest it across my back and weakly murmured

yes

I’d love a hug.

I cradled your head in my fingers

the bone smooth as stone under your silver-feather hair.

I watched the birds flutter and struggle for the gift of seeds   

watched the cross of waves on the lake

thronging in haste to parts unknown.

With us there is no hurry.

Now is to be still, to breathe with you, to feel

for a few more hours your hand still warm in mine

to pour my words of love into the fragile cup of your

upturned ear   

and then again be still with you

all the world in movement except here   

hovering in quiet sorrow.

Now purple with oncoming night the lake rests

A glowing opal ring of light,

the small birds have gone to their secret nests

the feeder hangs emptied of its trove.

I have no more words but those I’ve said before

I love you I hear you I am with you to the end

as promised,

and now to let you go,

small bird gentle wave,

I will sleep in my nest beside your bed

and wake to find the sun has risen

and you are gone.

Will Rose

October 10, 2014

Lake Washington, c. 1940