Three weeks passed like geese overhead, now echoing quietly over the bay as they fade out of sight. Tomorrow I too fly, though eastward and north, not south, and to neither warmer climes nor a warmer spirit. Visits are rejuvenating and more, but are visits, all the same, all the more difficult the more they feel like home.

In April, as water clears the soil and the earliest blooms begin to glisten, I’ll throw off my winter coat and parade my own new blossoms, new papers and new skills; a new life, completely underway and yet just now beginning.

All the things we forget to say
fall between the cushions
hide nestled in lint and loose change
grow warm and complacent and dusty
and we never think to clean them off and speak them.

All the things we forget to say
fall somewhere within the distance
between here and there
shimmy loose in the abstraction of cords and wires
and we never think to search them out and speak them.

All the things we forget to say
subside quietly into the sea
sink gracefully through the currents
come to rest at the bottom of oceans
where we dive for them and find
all the things we thought to say
and all the things worth saying.

04 Jan 2008 — Ahniwa Ferrari