National Poetry Month: Day #18

Twelve years ago this month, I pulled up stakes in Pennsylvania and set off across the country to Seattle. Many things have changed in my life since then, but one of the things that has remained constant and comforting is my friendship with the subject of this poem:

Clara

When my world reduced
itself to boxes traveling west,
decisions about the fates
of cats and roads to skirt
just south of flooding farms,
you were there.

You broke the bottle
across the bow
of my new life,
waving from the dock
as I embarked.

Now that anniversary approaches,
and you are still there,
between winter and better,
warming that mountain town
with your ready smile,

and still here
as blossoms flutter like confetti
through the twilight.

©2001 L.A. Smith.