Reunion Number Nine - Poem by Bill Galvin
At the junction of Rio Pueblo and Agua Piedra Creek,
In La Cueva Canyon, Carson Nat’l Forest, New Mexico;
Driving scenic Route 518 – 4 PM –
Over the southern part of Sangre de Cristo Mtns.
A rushing river swollen with spring melt water
Followed me west after crossing the high point
And beckoned me to find a pull-off close enough
To linger as you and I did so many times
At so many other streams,
To listen, watch, absorb, and surrender to the flow,
And wonder about eternity and timelessness.
Across from me a small creek adds its contribution
To the fifteen foot wide river.
The mountain walls are covered with pinion pines;
Snowy fingers hang tight in shady crevices.
The sun was strong at about 8500’ in elevation,
Though temps were comfortably cool near 60,
In this narrow wooded valley high above Taos.
Your beautiful locks, and your essence, were placed
At stream edge among rounded river rocks,
Where water eddied in a pool at the largest stone,
Causing you to pause a minute,
Hugging the shore where I stood,
As if thanking me for this reunion,
And for all we ever were for each other,
Before drifting off and joining other Water Spirits;
They call to you…
“Wait for me, I heard you say.”
You are part of the Creator’s Eternal Masterpiece.
I read an Ojibwa saying out loud:
“Sometimes I go about in pity for myself,
And all the while,
A great wind is bearing me across the sky.”
My sorrow abates,
Revealing a state of stillness.
I resume my drive downhill, thinking your locks
May be going downriver at the same speed.
My road diverges; you continue to the Rio Grande
And back toward your Texas roots.
Pleasant rafting, My Dear!
Comments about Reunion Number Nine by Bill Galvin
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye