Upcycled, mixed media artwork by Keely Jane
Sometimes I think the Worst
Like when my daughter calls at 3 AM
and I think of the raven's wings
collecting sorrows at the end of the world
or when my son responds with a grunt
when I ask about his day at school
and the great horned owl settles in the back
of my throat, waiting patiently for its prey.
Even the dog sighing in his own raspy
corner of sleep reminds me the way home
is blocked by sleet and snow.
I cannot tell you how I know to trust
in the creak and sigh of trees each time
the wind blows through the woods behind
my house, the way they lean into it,
as if it's the only way forward,
except that when I was a boy, I'd run
out into the street on windy days,
spread my coat behind me like wings,
making it impossible to feel anything
else, the strength of it almost lifting me.