O Crone who travels between the worlds,
     help me to imagine!
How, o how, will this beautiful world
     call me once again
     when I am beyond the veil, just listening?
I know!  it will be the whistling teakettle,
      “teeeeeeee,” I hear between the veils,
      and I will remember warming up
      with peppermint on a cold winter’s day.
I know!  it will be the sound of a yellowed page
      turning over as I finish a poem
      and begin afresh.
I know!  I will crave
      the baby’s laughter, primal, unrehearsed,
      still so connected to eternity.
I know!  I will return
      for those tiny chimes so easy to ring,
      that vibrate on and on like pearls,
      and seem never to end.
I know!  it will be Spring I crave, after winter’s cold,
      the first wood thrush to return
      splitting the air with her song of all the worlds.

Annelinde Metzner, April 25, 2017