Creek Life

 I need to be by water now and then

when life's hard edges scratch the underbelly

of my soul. Hot sand beneath my feet

connecting me to waves that welcome

with a cool embrace. Breeze-kissed lakes

with surfaces bejeweled by the sun and

celebrated by a family of cranes. It's fun to

speed along a river underneath a brilliant sky,

mindful of the skier that I pull, impatient

for my turn to ride the wake. These choices

are accessible (the last, perhaps now relegated

to my memory). This morning, though, I yearn

for something out of reach, the creek

I miss, the happy gurgling dance of water

over rock, the shock of icy feet. Self-confined to

shallows, 'cause I know that underneath

the ocean's surface there be monsters.

Lakes and rivers may hold perils too.

But creeks, their liquid energy that teems

with life and cheer have little time for

drama. If the oceans are our mothers,

and if lakes and rivers are our kin,

then creeks must be our lovers.

Creeks must be our friends.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2023

Dual Citizen

She lives in two worlds,

dual citizen, a denizen of sorts

to both the one clime that requires

her time and energy the most,

but also somewhere out beyond the mist,

(like Scarlett running after Rhett

but in this story, she demands

a happy ending, and a kiss). Her

passport's got a hundred stamps

from entry to a sunshine-shrouded

land of peace and joy, with fields 

she frolics in without a care or curfew,

where she's someone celebrated, shouts

of praise not for a goddess but 

a queen. She has a keen imagination,

not as good as you might guess; she's

seen the place, could take you there,

perhaps. It's true, she may have been

asleep, it may have been a dream,

but that's alright. The sun is fin'ly down 

and soon, they'll let her close her eyes

and she'll be back, she hopes, tonight.

Out in the field, in the sunlight with crisp,

fresher air to breathe, a dancing partner 

just beside, who knows the steps so well.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014

A Place of Quietness and of Grace

There is a place of  quietness and grace
where kindness reigns, not for an hour
or two, but all the time because of kindnesses
enjoyed, received, returned. A place of
fierceness in its passions, joys, and loyalties,
a place where what is Best is chosen out of
all the many lesser Goods. There is a place
like that, but only in a measure. Not in heaven,
for in heaven kindness is no longer needed.
When every heart is perfect, what need is there
for patience? Not on earth, not in a city or a town,
at least, for few would want to live there. They
might claim to, if expected, but the higher
standard of behavior would be daunting.
Only when two people share a language with
a depth below the surface, whose love and
kindness cannot help but be expressed, is
such a place reality. In moments. For much
longer, in some rare and isolated cases.
I'd like to go there, pitch a tent beside the
sea, and listen to the rain, curled up inside.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014