Afternoon Walks in Winter
Was it because the days are short
and meaningful and the nights will
be spent fitful with the scent
of burnt pallets that I am reminded
of your christening?
Or was it when I realized the breathe I held
would never pass between yours lips in time
and because the riverbed cannot
remember the cooling crush of rain
that I was left hesitant to ask.
Do the winds from the south speak more slowly to you?
Are birds aware they migrate in symbols of lesser or
greater degrees? How does the sparrow let you
touch her in death? I wasn’t certain I should ask;
you are after all only three.
Dylan C. Gailey‘s “Afternoon Walks in Winter” is her
second poem featured through WAW’s Poem of the Month.
She is also a student and teacher of Kundalini Yoga.
Writers At Work 
Your walk of winter afternoons
reminds me of the blue herons
I saw fishing near the melted edges
of the iced-over wrackline in Sag Harbor:
heralds to the morning my grandson was born.
It’s because night’s wingspan,
wide as moon, stretches
out before me.
It’s because the river whispers
me to sleep, carries my dreams
into morning.
It’s because I am only three
that I know the story of clouds,
understand the mathematics of birds.
What could be greater than this?
What a beautiful, sensitive and powerful poem. The last line surged through my body like adrenaline. Thank you Dylan.
Rich and saturated imagery, easy like liquid yet so haunting; I love reading your work Dylan. Thank you.