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Image by Maksim Romashkin


For the past three days
I have passed ice
Formed between the trees
At the side of the road.
And every time
I am with my brother–
Skates circling the trees,
Bending under branches,
Hugging the trunks, this way and that–
Explorers in a new land.
It is so much better
Than the open pond.
No one else is here–
Just us, a brother and sister
Hearing the scrape of our skates,
Seeing the black ice, white pockets of air,
Flying over still fish
And buried turtles. 
Just us, before the seasons
Cast us apart:
Held by the promise
Of a flooded wood.


I am standing
Next to a woman
And we are singing.
I hear her voice,
She mine,
The choir around us. 
It would be ordinary
Except she’s carrying
New life
And I wonder
What this tiny thing
Can hear, 
Or is it more
Like waves
Sloshing against
The beach of her body?
I sing
For this life–
The uncertain journey
For all of us– 
Whether we sing
Or not–
With each deep breath,
Each sound
That goes out
And dissipates,
That somehow
It will carry us
All the way there.

Author of three books, Jean Baur’s first two books are career books, and her most recent book, Joy Unleashed: The Story of Bella, the Unlikely Therapy Dog, is in its third printing. Jean has had short stories and poems published in a wide range of literary journals and recently won first prize from Mystic Seaport for her poem about the Mystic River. Her recent publications include: Literature Today, Today a River and Tiny Moments Volume 2, Phoenician Gravesite. In the past, she taught creative writing in inner-city schools and at a school for the deaf.


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