November 2017
Michael L. Newell
astrangertotheland@yahoo.com
astrangertotheland@yahoo.com
After spending one-third of my life abroad, I have retired to the south-central Oregon coast where I can enjoy rain, lots of rain, my favorite weather condition. I also am permitted the considerable pleasure of walking past river, creek, and forested hills. Having spent decades in arid settings, my current surroundings, with their attendant wildlife, provide deep contentment.
MIDNIGHT CALLER
(for David Newell)
A well-known voice from half a world away,
comforting as a battered tweed cap or well-worn leather shoes,
the words not important, the voice's timbre--its rise
and fall--eloquent as some old comforter
draped across shoulders while snow piles silently outside in drifts,
which recalls our theme, the drift of words
between friends across oceans
and friendship itself, its drift--
when we hang up, we are current
and the wind and tides continue
their world spanning colloquy, and so our words,
if you catch my drift.
First published in A Stranger to the Land (Garden Street Press, 1997)
WANDERER
The rain sutures all
pain he says turning his face
into the cold wind.
MIDNIGHT CALLER
(for David Newell)
A well-known voice from half a world away,
comforting as a battered tweed cap or well-worn leather shoes,
the words not important, the voice's timbre--its rise
and fall--eloquent as some old comforter
draped across shoulders while snow piles silently outside in drifts,
which recalls our theme, the drift of words
between friends across oceans
and friendship itself, its drift--
when we hang up, we are current
and the wind and tides continue
their world spanning colloquy, and so our words,
if you catch my drift.
First published in A Stranger to the Land (Garden Street Press, 1997)
WANDERER
The rain sutures all
pain he says turning his face
into the cold wind.
©2017 Michael L. Newell
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