by Martin Willetts Jr. The chicory sky flourishes without any half-hearted clouds.
I can only imagine tomorrow’s unnamable uncertainty
when dampness of dawn rises.
How much do we give each other?
How much do we take away?
I am full of bewildering awakenings.
I stare at the faraway collision of tree-blur
where every moment vanishes. I hear a stirring.
It’s a loon, rushing over lake reflection, his outburst echoing
and haunting the forest, his sincere belief
a possible mate hides nearby. His message contains hope
for a binding-together love, a part testimony and prayer.
The calling travels in front of him,
announcing his intentions, almost loss and despair,
definitively frantic. I recognize this vibrant feeling.
It lodges deep into my bones. All longing does.
All gratitude for finding someone, does.
Clouds collapse. Moments pass,
ellipsis away.
After that, nothing,
nothing at all.
I offer my hand. It waits like a nest.
It fills with after-silence the loon leaves behind.
His mating call mimics my own.
Martin Willitts Jr is a poetry editor for The Comstock Review. He has over 20 full-length collections including "Ethereal Flowers" (Shanti Arts Press, 2023), "Rain Followed Me Home" (Glass Lyre Press, 2023), and "Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji" which includes all 36 color pictures (Shanti Arts Press, 2024). He won the 17th Annual Sejong Writing Competition, 2022.
Comments