Three Poems by Alison Stevens

 

Thank You for Saying Goodbye

I used to hate when you showed up

in my dreams, sleeping beside me

in the same bedroom we once shared.

But then I got used to your visits

and the memories you brought

so real that when I woke

I wondered where you had gone.

 

The last time you were in my dream

we were standing in a fog

grey clouds swirling around us

staring at each other across a street.

Thin mist blurred your face

as I looked at you wondering why

and then you were gone.

One Star in the Sky

All other stars are obscured

by shelf clouds,

honor guard for the coming storm.

But these leavened wisps

give deference to your glow,

shining through a tunnel

made of fog walls, a pinpoint

piercing the millennia, promising

that when the storm has passed

you will be joined by your

brother and sister stars.

    

MY POOL

Wallowing in my small round pool is not the same as floating down the Truckee River in the sharp summer sun slicing through thin atmosphere at 10,000 feet. The river would change from moss green to run-off brown fringed by white caps in rushing water, while 30-foot pines trees lined the river as we traveled down the mountain to Donner Lake, our laughter echoing off the shore. The air was filled with fresh and rotting pine, loam and the lingering scent of animals as our black inner tubes, tied together, drifted toward and then away from rocks and fallen branches. Occasionally chunks of ice bumped our legs and scratched our thighs reminding us that the warmth was temporary and would be replaced by cruel and heartless winter snowstorms.

My pool is not the same as snorkeling in the Gulf of California where I was startled and choked on salty warm water as a sting ray suddenly glided beneath me, twirling as he stared back, ultimately indifferent to my presence. I was struck by the unfamiliar sight of orange fish, frisky blue and white and brown shrimp, coral in colors too bright to be real, and spiny lobsters that followed my progress. The sun burned my back as I briefly raised my head to note the rocky landmarks in the otherwise barren desert surrounding the Gulf, which belied the watery fairy tale that exists beneath the surface.

Nor is my pool anything like the plunge at the base of the waterfalls in the Maui rainforest from where I watched my son and his friends dive off high cliffs bordering the cascade. The water was fresh and cool and soothing after the long, hot hike into the forest and sizzled as it touched by burning skin. The water ran through me as if I was porous and the gentle waves lifted me like a silk scarf fluttering in the wind. The birds in the canopy cried and flew from tree to tree objecting to the bodies falling without grace into the water below. A shower silenced all life except for the sound of rain drops playing their rhythm on the leaves and rocks and into the pool, rising to the crescendo of a deluge then suddenly stopping as the sun regained control of the forest.

My pool is not like any of those watery havens except that I can float while I look up to the sky drifting in and out of the shadows cast by the trees. I hear crows, finches and parrots arguing and singing while perched on power lines, and I hear their wings rushing the air as they come and go. Sometimes a hawk will visit from the golf course, flying silently overhead, as it stalks its prey – a squirrel, a duckling, a rat – and then screech victory as it returns to its nest. Safe again, a squirrel will perch and chatter on the brick wall surrounding my patio, staring at me while I float in small circles, then move on, ultimately indifferent to my presence. The sound of the wind blowing through trees reminds me of the Truckee River, the warmth of the water makes me yearn for the sea life of the Gulf, and the gentle pulse from the filter recalls the undulating lightness of floating beneath the rain forest waterfall.

Alison Stevens - In her 20s Ms. Stevens wrote poetry and short fiction and edited small press magazines. Jump forward a few decades in which her professional life and parenthood took up all her time. Now that her kids are grown and she is retired she has returned to writing. In the past, her work was published in Sound Affects, Listening Life and Rip Rap.