"Retreat"
by Paloma
The Sioux named you well,
Minnesota, "land of the sky tinted water,
a hero who sleeps with Canada,
lakes, ladies'
hand mirrors,
tossed,
here and there,
too many to count,
I am the land of a thousand lakes
Winter, ready
to devour the stongest man,
send me your frontier men with the wilderness
in their beards…..I am a woman rejected,
I give you my cold stark shoulder,
a whisper will knock you down.
These arms,
wide, massive…..
calling…….calling
*******************************************
A rental car,
strokes the Great River Road,
daybreak…. pines,
maples, pierce
the eye, their
crystal silhouette,
too sharp to be looked at
casually.
The sun, peeks
at them, in between the trees,
lined along
the asphalt road.
Are you waiting for this procession?
Men who fell in love with an
Indian name..
a hunger, a
thirst to bury a man's song …
dig up yesterday…
in your
sky……in your lake….
in you,
Minnesota
Cold coffee out the car window,
trailing , a tail of a child's runaway kite…
a brown head against the warm window,
the radio plays,
static..now lyrics
The driver hums,
matching the hum of the motor,
one by one the trees pass….his life passes with every
blink of his blue eye
***********************************************
Lake Itasca,
wearing a collar of bend reeds,
boats tied to
the tattered dock.
A bait store….paradise for the fisherman…get your
tackle,
bait, lines, and….your reason to love
This air punches greenhorn lungs,
gives breathing a form…. a ghost..
crawling…. rowing to the middle of the lake..
oars dip…..a light caress on the face of the water,
a mosquito sunbathes.
Two lines, two
lives…. cast them carefully…a lure bobs…
the boat rocked as a cradle…
shadows begin to dapple on plaid shirts, canvas hats
******************************************************
Hutch 's yesterday….the summer family cabin..
early morning with his father…..
the drive to the lake…. hushed …all the way…
he pursuing a stranger he calls Dad…..
father pursuing his ambitions, his dreams, he calls Son…
Minnesota….
your coat of aspen, cottonwood, maple,
leaves burnt …. leaving stains of gold …. fire…
before the great Fall
Birthplace…a childhood…but not where my heart
could trust…be cared for
The Sioux,
drumming out a war cry,
prepared for battle….
your disappointments,
rejections,
prepared us for battle….
Love, a barter, laid brick by brick,
until I fell…… under your load, before your eyes
Hutch looked at this other man….
companion in the boat, his child anticipation,
intent on the line in the lake….
A new current… pushed…pulled the boat..
A community of feeding ducks…scattered geese..
Proud that you are the only ones..
here on God's green earth…..
hold onto
that…
I held, with a
set face, a mean wit….., a dark
distance…
a juggler
keeping those balls,
eternally in the air..in motion…
How beat I was….
you broke the cycle…
"me against me",
welcomed me into your friendship..
"I once was lost, but now am found",
Sunday school picnics,
shirtails out of cordory pants,
pigtails at a gallop…
grandfather's lap…his
favorite hymn..
You, Starsk, found me,
choose me…Friend;
loved me…..Brother
A tug on the line,
a break, reel it in, nice and easy…
A netted fish….laughter…cheers…supper now planned…
**********************************************
A rustling in the reeds…flapping…an anthem takes
flight,
Blow your trumpet,
Gabriel…awaken this relaxed waterscape…feathered giant…rise to a new
hope…another beginning…the cycle goes on….begs to start again….
Blow your trumpet,
full and ripe, throw my eyes,
my heart, your
footprints in the sky…
Hutch shaded his eyes,
Go…. find your new home….. I have found mine, Minnesota….
************************************************
Two lines, two
lives,
Two buddies out fishing…