There’s a thread you follow.
– William Stafford (“The Way It Is”)
Perhaps it was something your mother said
that dashed the demons, or a quiet reverie
with your father when the mallards rose
above the cattails, dripping from a cloudy
Sabbath sky, or a lover who gave you eyes
to see into others, or those grand epiphanies
that have taken root in your mind, found
fertile ground among the folds of gray
to produce a home to become you.
And when we stray from who we are,
we must hold on to the thread to hear their voices
ring above the din of falsehoods beckoning.
drycrikjournal 
‘And when we stray from who we are / we must hold on to the thread . . .’ Incredible wisdom tucked into inspired verse . . . Gifted writing . . .
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Thanks so much, Peter.
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That thread is indeed, golden.
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It is indeed, though often tarnished in places.
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Such a fine poem to launch the day. Thank you, John.
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Oh good, Meg. It’s been an exhausting, but extremely satisfying week on many fronts. Just got through feeding our bulls and pen full of weaned calves and it’s only 8:30… fresh pot of coffee and down time with my son before it warms up. Just got in, Robbin’s somewhere in the garden that’s exploding. Not a bad life!
10:00 a.m.: Killed a rattlesnake in the tomatoes, more than likely the one that bit the Beagle earlier in the week, dispatching him to join Robbin’s mother. An old dog we inherited, he’d been with us almost a year.
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And sometimes the thread slips from our fingers, and if we’re lucky we find it again and hold it more firmly.
Beautiful poem, John!
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So many ways to go, Angeline. I had to fight the tangled image of a ball of twine that we tend to pull tight, when patient unraveling works better and makes it easier to hold on. Thanks for the reading and comment.
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beautiful, and so affirming
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Good, MK, glad it worked for you. I may rewrite this one, as we tend to do, over and over again.
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