I Never Knew Your Birthday

I never knew your birthday
Because you were never born.
You’d be about ten now
If you had been.

Don’t feel offended if I don’t
Think about you all that often.
It’s best not to dwell,
But once in a while I have to.

When we found out you were coming,
We were thrilled at the news.
We began getting ready for you,
Expecting your arrival with excitement.

But you never came. It broke two hearts,
One much worse than the other.
It wasn’t your fault, of course;
You just couldn’t make it.

I learned long ago that feeling angry,
Or bitter, or even simply sad,
Did no good for anybody;
You can never come back to me.

I can only go to you, but I’m in no hurry;
I’ve got far to go, and much I have to do,
And in the meantime
You’re in the best possible hands.

Monuments

The valley is a place of dusty earth,
Dotted with thirsty shrubs,
And here and there the homes
And flocks of those who own it.

Above all stand the monuments
Sculpted from red rock
Into fantastic forms and shapes
Hundreds of feet high;

With names like the Mittens,
And Rain God, and Merrick,
Elephant Butte, and the Thumb,
And the Three Sisters.

They were formed by water and wind,
A tiny bit worn away at a time,
Worn and washed into red dust
On the valley floor.

It happened over millions of years—
Good work takes time,
And there were many other projects
Under way around the world as well.

When I visited that morning
I sat in the dust and watched
The rising sun as it painted
The rocks their vivid red.

I heard a mild wind blowing,
And watched it sweep the dust along,
And realized all at once that I
Was watching the Sculptor still at work.

Evening on the Fourth

The gravel logging road up the hill
Is still as steep a climb as when I
Was just a kid, and when I turn
At the top I can still see far.

It’s not what you’d call a scenic view;
Just many acres of planted pines,
And tall pines along the creek,
And more still at the distant treeline.

Beyond the trees, two miles or so away,
Lies the town of my early years,
Unseen except for the tips of antennae
And the water tower at the mill beyond.

On this evening I see the bright splash
Of an occasional celebratory rocket,
Just above the distant treetops,
Too far away to hear the bang.

They look so tiny against the sky,
With its shifting bands of twilight color
Filtering back from the sun,
Now lost over the horizon.

Beyond those vast bands of light,
A still vaster sky of evening purple,
Soon to deepen into darkness
Speckled with stars.

Around me insects buzz and flit,
Birds sing their Vespers songs,
Some perched on the pine branches,
Some rustling in the brush below.

While there’s still light to see
I walk downhill, feet crunching gravel,
Over half a mile of logging access
To the county road’s dark pavement.

From here it’s just a little way up road
Between dense lines of darkening trees
Over the creek and up the hill
To the house where I grew up.

All along the road the fireflies dart and spark,
Hundreds of them, undisturbed by
Racing headlights, putting to shame
The pale and as yet starless sky.

My feet and heart are light as I walk home,
For this has been a joyful evening;
In this last hour of watching I’ve had
The chance to see Him who is invisible.

Wow.....I'm impressed, Daphne. I'm not really into poetry, but you paint a very vivid picture with your words.

That first one almost made me cry.

That's not the effect I seek when writing...but some subjects just can't be done cheerfully.

I might as well say why loss has been on my mind lately. A week ago I took my dog to the vet. She had been doing poorly for weeks. Initially I didn't let it worry me too much, since the summer weather around here is always hard on a dog. But she kept sinking. The vet found that she had heart worms. Because of her age and weakened condition the vet didn't believe she could handle heart worm treatments. So she gave her a steroid shot to see whether that would stimulate her appetite and help her to regain strength. Over the Fourth of July weekend she seemed stable. By Monday, though, she was clearly going farther downhill. I realized that she definitely wasn't going to live much longer.

Yesterday evening, the last time I checked on her, she was in the den she dug for herself under the outdoor air conditioning unit several summers ago. In the summer she preferred that to her doghouse. I gave her a treat with medicine hidden in it and petted her. This morning I found her lying in front of the back doorstep, where she always used to wait to greet me when I came home in the evenings. Crawling there was her last act. It was like she wanted to be there when I came out to check on her again.

We rescued her as a puppy about nine years ago, when we were still together. She was sort of our "daughter." MK left her and me both at the same time. She was about the last reminder of our life together that I had.

I've told the staff at work that I plan to take the day off on Friday.

I am so sorry for your loss, Daphne.

I'm so sorry to hear about this, Daphne. Your poem was beautifully written; thank you for being so honest, as always.