The weather is turning here in Indiana. Not quite as icy as the picture above – at least not yet… but the delicious chill in the air has seeped into my brain. I’ve been thinking a lot about ice, and icebergs, and depths in relationships, and hidden things. What amazingly fascinating creatures we all are, worthy of respect and always a second look. I haven’t always been the best at seeing what is in front of my face. Here’s a rondeau about love and ice and loss – not about any one person in particular, but maybe about us all.
Nobody warned me
Nobody warned me when the front door shut
a piece of me would leave as well. The rut
worn deep into my heart from long routine,
our blunted expectations, set the scene
for this unraveling. Perhaps what cut
me most was knowing I had missed a glut
of signs, had let the feeling in my gut
diminish to a whisper. What did it mean
nobody warned me?
If I had known I might have altered what
I said. Instead those icy caps that jut
above the surface chilled us with the sheen
of easy waters over pain unseen.
I could not reach you then – I would have, but
nobody warned me.
Penguin Poems 