Threshold   2 comments




Fragrance of rain-bruised azaleas on this side, a row of ripening elms beyond.

A petal drops, the hardy elms wave.  Do I hesitate & wait, it’s still not late, or

hasten through the unkept gate before my boots turn to stone

while I drowse in cozy comfort of what I think I know?  

Where’s the gatekeeper? Who’ll be my ferryman?  

Even when stuck on this edgy cusp, I know, of course, they are me.


Posted May 8, 2014 by pjsisson in Uncategorized

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2 responses to “Threshold

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  1. This is so beautiful. I love the reflections and realizations at the end.

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