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Congratulations to Robin on getting her first book published - and re-issued in paperback (June 2007)
foggy
summer day
blessed by persistent drizzle
we embarked down the
narrow and rutted
dirt road
finally coming to a halt
near a
withered
crabapple tree
alone it stood
like some aging sentinel
left to watch over another era
I followed
a trail
of wild berries
until I spied a tiny
cemetery
tucked into the woods
I roamed amongst the stones
finally stumbling upon
the memorial for my
grandmother
I envisioned
her simple cottage
under the apple tree
the children at her skirts
while she tended to her chores
He is out to sea again
the burden is all
hers
the fog
closed in around me
carried me back
I understood
her isolation
I wondered
did the rain on her roof
at night
comfort her or only
amplify
her loneliness?
Ramsdell's Cove
-
Ramsdell's Cove
on a bright August day:
glittering rays
reflecting off cobalt waters-
splinters
of summer sun.
I sat on the shore
in total stillness,
alone but for my thoughts
of solitude,
out here
where few men wander.
So still,
I could hear the blueberries
ripening in the field behind…
quiet enough to hear
the ancient pines
whisper.
A fickle wind slid onshore
pushing before it
a wispy fog bank.
I watched the fog tiptoe
into the cove
enveloping all
in timelessness.
Gentle fog?
Deceptive fog-
mollifying even the sun,
now a powerless, hazy orb,
its softened light scattered
aimlessly.
Then a subtle stirring
of oars in water
and the silhouette
of a schooner
that had crept
onto the scene.
Suddenly,
a fleet of phantom ships,
a ghostly brigade,
tall and proud
shrouded
in the guileful fog.
Around me,
the muffled voices
of seafaring men,
the rattle of chains, the rip of ropes
yanked
against rusted moorings.
An ancient ship
pulled alongside
a well-worn pier.
Her crew unloaded precious cargo
passing barrels
from man to man.
The shuffle of boots on a
creaking deck…
bent backs and
knarled hands -
they worked, oblivious to me,
spectator,
time traveler,
until their wares
were piled high
on the weathered planking.
And,
as silently as they had come,
they departed,
gray sails billowing,
sliding deftly
from the sheltered cove.
With them
went the vagrant fog
leaving behind
a glowing August day
and the echoes
of a different century.
Robin Berard, © 2003
Full Circle
-
How do you recapture a well-spent youth?
And if you could,
would you grasp it in your hand
forever,
and never,
let it fly away?
Once there was a child,
cherished, blessed;
she grew into a woman,
distant,
unrecognizable.
How now to return?
Deep within lies the essence of the girl,
spirited, joyful;
the years hide
her soul,
like rings on a tree.
She searches for the child within,
searching ,
for the path that leads
back,
full circle.
Robin Berard, © 2003
Sister
at your heels like a lost puppy
wanting you to notice me.
You'd blow in like a summer breeze,
ripe with some new success,
and stay long enough to steal my heart
all over again.
I am just your little sister.
Life was a grand experiment -
you lived in a different world
that had no boundaries
while I remained behind
imagining I could one day be like you.
I am just your little sister
who wanted you to love her.
I planned to follow you forever
even though I wasn't sure I'd keep up.
But you left
and never looked back
to see me trailing behind.
I am just your little sister
for all eternity.
You achieved the ultimate one-up,
for how can I ever compare
to one who is gone?
And how will you ever know
that I was up to the challenge?
I am just your little sister
who wanted to share our lives, our dreams.
Now I am graying -
my heart is weary.
I've had to do it all without you.
To this day, more than anything,
I need you here, with me.
I am not just your little sister,
I am a woman alone.
Why didn't you stay?