Still Here
Dinkey Creek, Sierra National Forest
Afternoon sun fades,
haze of creamy yellow
infuses western sky,
plays hide and seek
amidst cedar, fir, pine.
Raven caws loudly,
insists I know
he is here,
even though other creatures,
winged or scurrying,
are nowhere in sight.
Life tucks in for winter.
Pale pink remnants
of dogwood straggle,
crisp yellow maple leaves fall.
Pine needles drop
into soft brown pillows.
I want to lie down in them,
look up at stark blue sky,
white cloud ribbons streaming.
I want to lay sadness aside,
call out like raven,
that I, who loves this place,
am still here.
Kate Aver Avraham loves words whether she is writing them, editing them or reading them. She has been published numerous times, including her book of poems, Arms of My Longing from Blue Light Press. She lives in Aptos, Ca. at the glorious edge of the redwood forest and is an Associate Editor of the Monterey Poetry Review.
Dinkey Creek, Sierra National Forest
Afternoon sun fades,
haze of creamy yellow
infuses western sky,
plays hide and seek
amidst cedar, fir, pine.
Raven caws loudly,
insists I know
he is here,
even though other creatures,
winged or scurrying,
are nowhere in sight.
Life tucks in for winter.
Pale pink remnants
of dogwood straggle,
crisp yellow maple leaves fall.
Pine needles drop
into soft brown pillows.
I want to lie down in them,
look up at stark blue sky,
white cloud ribbons streaming.
I want to lay sadness aside,
call out like raven,
that I, who loves this place,
am still here.
Kate Aver Avraham loves words whether she is writing them, editing them or reading them. She has been published numerous times, including her book of poems, Arms of My Longing from Blue Light Press. She lives in Aptos, Ca. at the glorious edge of the redwood forest and is an Associate Editor of the Monterey Poetry Review.
