I was only gathering up things
to save.
They were evidence
of the time and place.
I was saving them
for proof that it was
really that good.
I was watching the splash
of thick raindrops
on paved walkways.
And smelling the cleanness
of the rain.
I was listening to the
rush of wind through pine
trees and the groan of
aspen shifting
their weight
as golden coinage
fell to the ground
about autumn.
I was tasting the
cool water as it
flowed from the red pump
and satisfying thirst
for the ages.
I was only
ingesting the words
in the order in which
they were written,
and the feeling of
the weight and the woven
cloth spine of the book
escaped me as I absorbed
the pages.
I was savoring quiet
minutes and hours to
use for hard times
I did not know
would come.
It was instinct,
survival
to collect
and sort them,
shelving them
to take out when
needed.
Yes, I had eaten well
and my belly had been full.
Yes, dreams cushioned my
nights, safe and warm.
Yes, the sounds of the
cooing dove assured and
soothed me a thousand times.
I only took what I needed
and I shared what I could.
(c) Nita Walker Boles
