Three ravens slip the wind
into the hayfield
to forage after the storm.
When the harbor smoothes,
I will paddle my kayak out to sea.
I am waiting out the wind
the way we endure slow time,
the end of marriage, a mother dying,
the way winter endures for spring,
or one alone patiently awaits the other.
What unfolds today will indicate
the weather, what the sea has in mind.
–Nana Lampton,
Bloom on a Split Board
Accents Publishing