“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones” — Albert Einstein

Sunday, December 4, 2011


A road, a river, a mountain,
restless desert eddies,
and still more space to navigate;
more than can be gathered.
Beyond the question of what you had
for dinner and if your roses bloom
or stand defeated in the heat,
about what matters, we sometimes fall behind.
Yet I feel you and hear your voice
in the strangers who surround me.
When the very silence howls an absence,
like the coyotes that run your foothills,
I hear you.
In this we aren’t so far apart.
They say we have them here.
Bold in the twilight, hungry and moving.


Anthony Duce said...

I like: “about what matters, we sometimes fall behind” Can relate so easily… I like all the other lines too….

Ed Pilolla said...

i must say, this stirred me. i read it a second time slowly. compact, and you left me breathless at the end. what a close.
what a treat:)

Yvonne Osborne said...

Thank you. I'm glad you liked it.

Thanks. It means so much.

Jemi Fraser said...

I agree with both Anthony and Ed - love, love that line!

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

'the very silence howls and absence'...what a gorgeous, moving poem.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Thank you very much. That one line seems to sum up my life.

Something about the primitive sound of the wild strums a cord deep deep inside. It means a lot to me to know something I write strikes a cord in you and others here like you. Thank you.

Enchanted Oak said...

Lady, this needs to be submitted to an honest-to-gawd Literary Journal, competition, whatever. Pursued to the ends of the earth. It's a damn fine poem. I've had to read it numerous times. In fact, I might have to copy it and save it to my desktop. If I wrote poems like this, I would quit my day job.

You can take a woman out of the desert, but you can't take the desert out of a woman. Such an vastness there, what you call an "absence"...lovely. If you have a moment, here's my version of this song:
Ghost Town, Mojave Desert

I'm seriously pleased to have stopped in to read this.

Yvonne Osborne said...

You made my day. Honestly, I'm speechless....coming for you, one whose prose always leaves me feel sorely lacking, this is a huge compliment. I will think about the literary journal thing. I seem to go in spurts...submitting stuff and then submitting nothing for months. There's something about the desert that tugs. I'm on my way over.

Suzanne Casamento said...

Beautiful. Your poems are always so beautiful.

Yvonne Osborne said...

I just saw your comment. Thank you so much. I appreciate it, and I pride myself on never missing a comment!