.
Soft, Camb, and pause. Our Travellers are asleep,
So let us break the rush of things external,
Take this quiet time and touch the kernel --
Sara and myself. A subject deep:
This trip, you know, was part defiant leap
From vales of death to find the green and vernal
Source of love, lost in its pledge eternal
Somewhere up the slippery, sere and steep
Canyon of years, a promise left to keep.
And now? How this our anniversary,
Half-finished, feels a warming nursery,
Transforming grief to fragile shoots of art,
Here and her own, like sketched and cursory
Pathways from sunny nature to the heart,
An inward greening, and an upward start.
--Matt
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