Poem For Sunday

Je reviens

Rocks I have touched in Greene County,
Cheddar Gorge and North Carolina
hold my caress, and I am there.

Clouds hold my gaze: snow-white lambs,
gray curtain clouds and cyclones
know me, and remember.

And oh red clay, black loam,
quicksand in the well-fields leaching out
between my toes! I come back often.

Every puddle, stream, lake, ocean
or river I have waded or tried to swim
keeps my reflection.

Trees I have embraced: the skinny pine,
the oak primeval and the wounded ginkgo,
keep me in their bark.

Green grass I have rolled in,
clutched face-down, the fescue,
the clover: they hold my shape and form.

Roads I have traveled (red clay):
sand, gravel, and the pavements gray--
when you walk them, follow my footprints.

The imprint of my lips lingers
on every face I ever kissed, and won't wash off.
See me in your mirror.

Now every parting becomes a greeting;
I never went away but I returned
and always will.

By JRC, 01/13/13