The In-Between

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Another Day

rests her weary head

over the ridge.

I wonder if I should

envy her confident

withdrawal.

I have tendency

to linger in

the in-between.

A delicately intimate relationship

with the magical bardos of

dawn and dusk

hallmarks my life.

Often, I transition

in good company:

On an Andean cliff edge

the mystic and I,

surrounded by gracious children,

would share in pregnant silence

during the hour of power -

allegiant –

until one of us

spotted the first star

and giggled uproariously.

Celebratory dawns:

The watery melodings of

oropendolas and currawongs,

Bumble bees stretching and yawning

as they awaken on coneflower beds,

The sand surface break through of

loggerhead hatchlings

furiously in pursuit of surf,

Satiated bats last morsel flight,

Zealous cicadas first declaration.

Blessed dusks:

A painter’s most passionate wandering pallet,

Vociferous owls and frogs the world over,

And oh the whip-poor-will,

Magical hikes up mountains and at lakeside

until moonrise begs our full attention,

Does retrieving dappled fawns

in dense wildflower meadow,

Emerald-green katydids at window pane

preparing to play their wings

with the passion of short-season urgency.

So…

So, to my questioning,

I think not.

I think, perhaps, that I shall vow

to grow old while padding along

edges and frolicking

with uncertainty.

Those who have not yet

called me crazy

might find reason to do so.

That’s alight.

For, in fact,

it dawned on me long ago:

making stepping stones of the in-between

is the only way

to grow.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in  Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out 

Feel free to share