Musings of Odysseus, by John Muro

Musings of Odysseus
by John Muro

Honey locust leaves, delicate as fingers,
Draw fog through their branches in a slow
Drag of wind, and once again I dream of you
And how well you carry the burden of age
And our name, while waves quietly recede
Then return, bearing sorrow upon sorrow,
Turning minutes into days and days into
Years and steadily wearing down memory,
Though I still hunger for home and carry
You in my heart. The tides have succumbed
To darkness now and their sound and splendor
Remain another obstacle to overcome,
Pondering how I might yet return to you
And find the true purpose of this odyssey.
Today the water was as clear as the air,
And I dreamed I saw you falling to our bed
Beneath the plaintive tongues of leaves
Murmuring, in wind-rustle hush, how
Those things we cherish most in life
Often remain apart from us and how the
Weight of time helps to make the past
More bearable even as distant currents steer
Things towards new beginnings or their undoing.

A life-long resident of Connecticut, John Muro is a graduate of Trinity College, Wesleyan University and the University of Connecticut. His professional career has focused on environmental stewardship and conservation, and he has held several volunteer and executive positions in those fields. In the Lilac Hour, his first volume of poems, was published last fall by Antrim House, and it is available on Amazon. John’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Moria, Euphony, Third Wednesday, Clementine Unbound, River Heron, Freshwater and other literary journals.

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