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Leaving Westie Way

A backward glance…

Leaving Westie Way.

Why must it be

the most beautiful

the day we leave

for the last time,

autumn sunlight dappled just so,

never saw it ladled quite as deliciously.

The family of loons not seen all summer

now suddenly patrols the dock,

aloofly,

not wanting to seem

the slightest bit interested

in the ruckus.

The chipmunks will wonder, peevishly

where their nightly trove of Spanish peanuts has gone.

Grover the groundhog will sigh wearily at the prospect

of having to charm new owners yet again.

The male and female cardinal will look for us in vain on the front deck

after countless nightly visits,

and decree their human companions

to be fickle at best.

Taking our leave,

the dirt road behind us will unspool,

dustily, as always

and we may miss the new fawn

who pops her head out from the brush,

curious,

wondering at someone leaving such a place

when all around her is golden.

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Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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