Like the dragonfly, we mind no clock,
walk the Red Ribbon Path with Joy,
our guide who suggests we remove our shoes
to feel the thick moss under our feet as we walk.
Nearby, in the Cathedral Pines, a crow caws.
Minutes drop like the clothes of a woman
undressing in a hurry.
Here, we mind no one. Here,
even at the center of this island
we can feel the land’s heartbeat
and the ebb and flow of the tide
as it fills and empties the bays.
Each night after dinner we hurry
to the lighthouse, to feast on slashes
of orange and pink painted across the sky.
—
Mary Junge lives and writes in Minnesota. Her poems have been published in numerous literary journals and anthologies. She has published three books of poetry: Express Train (Pudding House Publications); Pilgrim Eye (Laurel Poetry Collective); Creatures of Promise (Kelsay Books, April 2024).
