for Lisa Morgan
Folsom Lake, next to Mormon Island Auxiliary Dam
I have come again to the granite boulders
beneath the oak tree on the angled hill
looking down at the lake—this spot
I occupied a few weeks ago—
to see what has changed.
So much. Oaks stretching
their long limbs fully leafed out.
Knee-high grasses, in some places
thigh-high, waving hello,
tousled by the vigorous breeze.
The lake navy blue, furrowed
Spring comes and goes always
Lavender twining brodiaea have
almost gone, giving way to a profusion
of purple vetch, their violet heads
hanging on their stalks,
trembling in the wind.
The lake has risen, almost covering
a sea of purple blooming on the shore
below, one small island still above
water, a raft supporting a single tall tree.
If the snow melt arrives as predicted,
the little strip of land will likely vanish.
We all find ourselves underwater
at one time or another, waiting
for the waves to recede.
The sudden rise takes us aback;
we feel as if we are drowning.
We forget about rises and falls,
comings and goings,
beginnings and endings.
And then we remember:
We know how to swim.
We know how to float, how to rest.
We just need to lay our heads back,
let our lungs fill with sweet air
washing over us,
Sweet, thoughtful words of comfort for Lisa. She’s lucky to have you by her side during the sad moments ahead.
Thank you, Gloria. I share your sorrow over the passing of your dear Friend and colleague in all things Library and more. Hugs and love to you.
Memories and stories of Gay keep popping into my head as I process what I want to write in her tribute. What a legacy!