A Point of Light
This day is long as though I have two lives,
what is, and what it might become.
I am an artist, bringing color not yet seen.
Earth's landscape is my map.
Without reasonable light there is no blue,
no red, no subtle rose.
I'll trust the wisdom of that light
as cloud shapes shift behind me.
And when the branch, instead of breaking, bends,
I know that what's not lost is hiding
where memory and imagination join
and, when I see it, I'll need nothing else.
Linda Conroy is a retired social worker who likes to write about the complexity of behaviors that make us human, our connection to nature and to the changing times. Her poems have appeared in various journals. She is the author of a poetry collection, Ordinary Signs.