A Resting Place

© 2009 – Collage and poem by Sue Miller

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Tranquility – just what I needed,
relaxation, my get-away,
a new sanctuary for part of a day
near picnic tables, a creek, pines
in the Black Range Mountains.
Peaceful water rippled, trickled
as I listened for little bubble pops
by fish kissing water surfaces.
Red and yellow wildflowers
danced in the breeze
as a prudent bee pollinated,
a stink bug raised its hind end
under my close inspection,
patches of healthy clovers half covered
a pathway around boulders,
a cool gentle wind made goose bumps
on bare arms. The sun tapped my shoulders
in the blue gaps of sky and tall pines.
May the hands of God rise from the water,
release a white dove into the air
to bless this hidden place.

Waving Curtains

First time to move away from home.
Not a good living arrangement,
but some place to stay.
A singlewide mobile home.
Wagon Wheel Trailer Park.
Doña Ana road.

Quiet, sitting in a corner chair,
in the living room
by a window,
double pane slid upward.
Pleasant, cool breeze blowing
through the screen,
blowing a thin, lacy white curtain
in front of my face.

In a void, a trance,
allowing the curtains to wave
over my head,
tickle my ears, neck and shoulders.
I think this happened
before -- déjà vu.

The wind, carrying me
through a mysterious dimension.
I waver between
worth and worthlessness.
Curtains stop waving,
snap out of the spell.
Why do these things happen
when I am alone?