Thursday, April 24, 2014

the poem from my pocket

When you can't find the poem

you want, the one that travels
out to the frozen river

at dusk, and listens
for the first crack

of ice breaking
apart, revealing veins

of pewter and white
in the dark, that moment

when meaning opens, a current
under the rigid surface

loosening, beginning to pull
the world along

into the first days
of spring, into the question

that answers everything - seems
to answer everything - 

when that poem
will not be found, you must

celebrate its small life
with another

 ~ Wendy McVicker
If you are not fortunate enough to have this poem handed to you in passing with Wendy herself, it can be found in the collection A Ritual to Read Together: Poems in Conversation with William Stafford.

1 comment:

Kerry said...

Great poem! And I do love that she loves William Stafford.