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