Tuesday, October 19, 2010
All My Fault (poem)
Trips away are wonderful and renewing, but it is always good to come back home. Boulder is now in its full glory of fall--a kind of golden paradise. Somehow, the brilliant spectacle reminds me of Shakespeare's sonnet which begins: "That time of year thou mayst in me behold/when yellow leaves or none or few do hang/against those boughs that shake against the cold" and ends "to love that well which thou must leave ere long." Indeed, we must love the sight of nature unfolding its final beauty of the year as fully as we can, for we know that soon all will be gone, buried under the snows soon to come.
All My Fault
(to the Beloved, after a lengthy separation)
This is to let You know
that I miss You.
I know, I know,
it is all my fault.
I have been busy
with “other things,”
which somehow seemed
more important at the
time.
But now I am longing
for You beyond belief.
I am like a mother
who goes out to
the green grocer,
leaving her child alone
at home.
On the way back
she suddenly wonders,
what if something
has happened
while I was gone?
What if I never
see my precious one
again?
Dorothy Walters
October 19, 2010
