The Shimmering

Poem written by Ann Bookman, used with permission from Points of Attachment (Finishing Line Press, 2012)

It was a humid summer night
ground fog shimmering
with Adirondack nostalgia
and morsels of regret,
when she alighted
on the turreted roof top
of the Lake George house.
She moved quickly, gracefully,
pausing on the wide front porch,
pale yellow pillars wrapped
in heart-shaped leaves
and plump purple grapes.

Freeing herself from
fruited vines, lowering
herself down
through narrow spaces
that open and close
like the gills of a fish:
she swam out through
the markings of memory,
releasing fugitive sighs
that were no longer
breath, her arms extending
for miles, enfolding me,
holding me, giving me a face
I can recognize – hers –
and a place to inhabit
as myself.