for Dave
Driving east on Montana 200,
Unbidden recollections spill over buttery fields.
Floating like ghosts between Square Butte and the Little Belts,
They swarm through the shadows of life’s early hillsides
Back there, where we worshipped no god but Now.
Passing Moccasin, your death
Breathes deep curves in the road.
falling into patches of darkness
As time sharpens the edges of forgetting
Who we were.
Brenda Warren 2013
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Love this dedication to friend..
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nice write; have a good October
much love…
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I can remember worshiping that god Brenda – today I wish time was less fleeting…
Anna :o]
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the last stanza wraps this experience up beautifully… great writing!
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Such beauty in your remembrance piece, Brenda.
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A beautiful poem about your deceased friend. Well done lady.
Pamela
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Feel very sad and lonely, like a lost love. This has me at emotional odds because I’m completely in love with Montana. Very soft and tender poem Brenda. 🙂
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Really enjoyed the images and the ideas behind them, especially “As time sharpens the edges of forgetting/ Who we were.”
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I love this. I especially like unbidden recollections spill over butterfly fields
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I love the flow of this..such tender images..i feel i want to reach out the car and keep them close..
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“your death breathes deep curves in the road” Beautiful and achingly familiar. There’s a deep curve on Hwy 43 heading north where this becomes my reality. You took my breath away this morning.
Elizabeth
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Time must have a marvellous whetstone to sharpen the edges of forgetting. I wish it weren’t so, but it is.
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we worshipped no god but Now… great line. Ah, to be young again.
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Ahhh … took my breath away – lovely 🙂
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Time does sharpen the edges of forgetting. Beautiful, Brenda.
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So beautifully written that I wanted more.
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This is brilliant, Brenda – I really struggled with this one!
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Absent friends…
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Somedays I think we all have forgotten who we were, who we are and who we really should be. Nice reminder.
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