The other day, this occurred through one of my correspondences. I received an email from a friend and I was astounded at the compassion I felt in her message. The next day I responded and explained this to her. Then later that day, while I strolled through the Soho, a colorful string appeared in my thoughts and began weaving its way through my mind in the most musical ways while outlining some of the warmest images, threading together what I had felt frayed in dismay.
Then riding the J Train back to the Jamaica Center, I composed this sonnet in my little notepad above the old brick buildings of Williamsburg on a gorgeous day.
- For Lee Christine Brownlee
Stumbling through the woods on a moonless night
among the fronds of ferns and mossy stone
I found a plume fallen long ago,
the only trace of a trackless flight.
Then with some twigs from the forest floor
still wet and green from last year's spring
and an unraveled quilt's colorful string
I wove a nest I left above the old barn's door.
Although empty when I turned away
I hoped some saddened thought would settle there
and find comfort from the frosty air
cupped inside the tender weave of strays,
then with the next day's warming light
dive into the bottomless sea of sky.
- For Lee Christine Brownlee
Stumbling through the woods on a moonless night
among the fronds of ferns and mossy stone
I found a plume fallen long ago,
the only trace of a trackless flight.
Then with some twigs from the forest floor
still wet and green from last year's spring
and an unraveled quilt's colorful string
I wove a nest I left above the old barn's door.
Although empty when I turned away
I hoped some saddened thought would settle there
and find comfort from the frosty air
cupped inside the tender weave of strays,
then with the next day's warming light
dive into the bottomless sea of sky.
Garrett Buhl Robinson
8-30-15
