A Certain Sadness

A certain sadness

falls now and again

like spent petals from the apple tree

after weeks of hanging in their glory

heavy with dreams

neutered at birth 


The May wind

bright not warm

catches then tosses them wildly

confetti in a ticker-tape parade

settling in a drain

that leads to sea


Who are we then?

Cuddy or Rowboat?

Is this a cabin we’re living in?

Or do we simply own an oar

trying to pull at once

in a similar direction


You write I cannot read

I write you will not react

The fear of criticism overwhelms

silence the common denominator

so then we simply retreat

in turns into anonymity


Surely it’s the economics

that maintains the equation

How’d we live without each other?

Nearly forty years since we set out

on this one-lane adventure

without room for u-turns


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to A Certain Sadness

  1. be it straight or crooked, the path leads ever onward


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