Squam Lake

Art by Jim Oskineegish

The nights of heat lightening
and mornings of languid water have passed.

The sun has shifted and the
yodels and tremolos of the loons
have subsided into hoots that simply ask:
“Where are you?”

Under the slackened gaze of a clear sky,
the mountains shake green velvet robes
from their shoulders, robes that fall
like golden halos at their feet.

From this unadorned landscape,
chasms and cracks, crevasses and caves emerge.

In this new season, in this new naked light,
I touch your stony skeleton
and rest my head against the scarred hollow
that holds your heart.

I discover the shadow of your smile,
the subtle slant that tempers pain with joy.

I seek the places where you hide,
the truth you shield with lies.

I trace my hand along the ridges where rocks
break into slides, where the avalanche awaits.

Here. It is here that I find you.

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