And Some Don’t Make It


and some don’t make the cut

there’s no suckle from the mother
or tall grass frolick
no night-stealth to the pond
or afternoon nap
under lime green shoots of maple

a long smooth lick around the ears
will never be
and the taste of fresh spring greens
or waking in mossy dew
after a cool summer night
cannot be embedded as a place to return
when the first time never happened

the days of hiding from thunder
under wings of cedar boughs
drooping long enough
to cover the floor where
tender stalked solomon seal
drift from left to upwards
and signal the changing of hours
go unknown

you curled from upright
into this earth
did she forget you were there?

did she meet with the dogs
on that lightening knit night
when the skies howled and yelped
through thunder and rain?
perhaps the road came up to meet her

were you nestled too close to
that falling tree?
or maybe you came in
knotted inside
were you lamed by the pitted ground?
did you wait and wait and wait
unknowing how to be alone
to drink from the creek
or nibble the grass?
you could have asked

was the staying the thing
your return to the earth
the way to leave

but I know


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2 Responses to And Some Don’t Make It

  1. 😥 sad…but oh so beautifully written. A wondrous testament to the circle of life Lori.

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