Tethered, you polish every mirror,
hoping for new faces,
hungry for new air.
You climb to the blue water tower
behind your house. Your three-year-old’s
favorite walk. He used to fly ahead
in those tiny red-and-white high-tops.
He loved those shoes, just like his dad’s.
Now he runs his own far-away trails.
A breath. The dusty scent
of blue gum eucalyptus pulls you
to unknown paths in woods so close to home.
On a cracked tree stump,
a pair of black high heels splay in first position,
ready to waltz, perhaps to flee.
Can you find balance
as you trudge earth
that now feels groundless?
Whistles of an unseen thrush rise
on a collective sigh of cedars.
Four hawks spiral on afternoon currents.
Farther up the trail, a young father
cups his daughter’s elbow
like an egg.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Angie Minkin has lived in San Francisco for 40 years and is grateful to live in a blue bubble filled with sea light. She raised two children in this beautiful city and now shares her home with her husband and two playful cats. Angie is a coauthor of Dreams and Blessings: Six Visionary Poets (Blue Light Press, 2020). A poetry editor with Vistas & Byways, Angie’s work has appeared in that journal, as well as Birdland Journal, Oh Mama, New Verse News, The Pangolin Review, and various anthologies.