A Wild Grace

          for Bill Mason

Dawn comes first along the spine of the river
Wood smoke and wet ash, mist.
A gull on a grey stone
                           keeping her watch.

Your bags lashed tight —
      fitted against the pale ribs
          the slender body of the canoe —
               you push off.

Remember Abraham? Remember Sarah? Remember
     the long red thread of their desert journey
          as it passed through weariness
               as it passed through the terror
                     as it passed through love’s narrow eye?           

               You head out

 And what is faithfulness, if not this?
    Climbing up and down the cold white rungs
          the blue ladders of the sea
     A long red canoe rounding a difficult point,
                        an uncertain sky

A wild grace spread out to greet you.
- Cheryl Hellner, a former subscriber to the Heron Dance print journal. If you know Cheryl, or are Cheryl, please be in touch.