by Lael Cassidy
cloud cover
the protective soothing weight
the metal of the water
the sea lions barking on the beach
the bird song, a call and response
the placid sea
the sense of waiting
a lone heron’s dinosaur voice
speaking one solemn bird-word
the rest is a tame rolling hum
they wonder what we’ve been up to
the boats stay in the harbor
the trees have always stood like this
at casual attention, unperturbed
my children are cast on the wind
like seeds
a barge, a house half built
a seagull cries and the trilling
rolls on and on like a train
moving even if the sound doesn’t
the sea lion barks again
some part of me came out of hiding too
when the commotion stopped
as though i am that child again
whose parents never came home
here comes that train again,
like pain, already it moves
into the distance
and the soft wet air surrounds
with the song of its own
a lover touching on my skin
with no intent to abandon
because there’s no way it can,
already the H, the 2, the O
being what i am
i am the morning air
that is around me
it moves on, in, and through me
and there’s that train again,
like rain, already it moves
into the distance
Lael Cassidy has published sixteen nonfiction children’s books. She holds a BA and MA from University of Pennsylvania and lives in Seattle. She poems have appeared in Tupelo Press, Silver Birch, Headline Poetry, and Beyond Words, among others.