Find Me Where I Live

Should I depart early,

will you feel me leave?

Which memories of me will linger,

wandering the corridors of your consciousness?

Which will trammel upon your heart,

leading you to seek me where my spirit dwells?

You’ll start with the Savannah River,

being careful to look for alligators who have migrated north,

compounding the threat, previously limited

to moccasins and copperheads.

Come down to the island, there below the shoals,

where the cypress grow, hosting hunting hawks

who light upon the highest branches

sky siestas from riding thermals,

searching land and water,

preying

while herons perch on protruding knees,

gnarled wood, damp above the water line,

fishing

If you can’t find me among the shoals,

where the water flows clear and cold,

it’s possible that you don’t know how to look

properly,

perhaps searching with your eyes

instead of your heart.

If looking for me

finds you not finding me,

try listening.

I'll be in the breeze,

dancing through needles and leaves

of trees I love:

cedar, cypress, oak and pine, river birch, magnolia, and dogwood.

I'm not Uncle Walt,

and you'll never find me

if you look among the leaves of grass--

I won't be on the ground, growing from dirt.

If you can't hear me in the breeze,

do not despair; I cannot linger everywhere,

and you'll find me in music:

Allman Brothers, Steve Miller, Steve Earle--

I'm in the wild mountain honey; take

seven turns on the seven bridges road,

unbroken and unbent.

If nature and music fail you,

look to the books.

I'm there in Huck Finn, journeying with the Magi,

the sound and fury of my words

on my own pages and in Faulkner, Eliot, Steinbeck, and Porter.

I'm with Flannery and Eudora, Hemingway and Yeats.

If I should depart early,

and if you cannot find me

in any of these places where I live,

look to your heart, my love,

explore your memories of me,

keep me alive and dancing

in your heart, let my laughter

be the soundtrack

as you remember

the delight I found in you.