Arrival

(This weekend marks the 29th anniversary of my arrival in Vermont, in My Beloved Sandra’s arms forever. Best move I ever made…)

———[||]———

Arrival

A week into October
he says his goodbyes,
drives even further north.

The New English maples
sliding by his windshield
are already losing their leaves.

Finally, everything around him
is bursting and new; everything
that had been promised is
being delivered.
                               Broken promises
had driven him here, driven him
as surely as the steady hum
of the moving van’s cylinders.

Everything he had become,
everything he owned — not much,
but still, everything — was rattled
and shaken inside.
                                     He knew,
pulling at last into the driveway,
seeing her waiting on the porch,
that what he’d left behind was nothing.

—————[|||]—————
Poets And Storytellers United
Weekly Scribble #39
~ October Thrills ~
———[||]———

Poet-United-768x374

15 thoughts on “Arrival

  1. This poem has stolen my heart, Ron. Like a film in my head, I saw the ‘New English maples / sliding by his windshield’, heard the ‘steady hum / of the moving van’s cylinders’ and the uncertainty in the rattling and shaking. But oh, how I smiled, with tears in my eyes, at the final stanza!

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