Exploring, poetry written by Alan Cohen at Spillwords.com

Exploring

Exploring

written by: Alan Cohen

 

Do you remember, my dear
How, when we lived near Amherst
We would go for drives on the weekends
Exploring, we called it
Over time, especially to the north and west
And how it was always pleasant
And always new and full of surprises
Of course, it wasn’t what the roads were made for
But it seemed to us like they were
There were so many of them
Branching off in every direction
Way leading on to way as the poet said
But these took us beside brooks
Along streams
Across rivers, through orchards
Past bakeries and fruit stands
Homemade ice cream shops and bookstores
Picnic benches, restaurants
Barns and farmhouses
Cornfields, cowfields
Every so often we would suddenly find ourselves back
In a place we’d loved in the past
And forgotten
There were, of course, the seasons
The flowers in spring, the leaves in the fall
The pick-up baseball games we’d watch summer evenings
Could we have gone out a hundred times
Two hundred
Surely no more
And always an adventure, always a treat
Some pottery loft or artist’s studio
A stand of birches trees
A steep incline and a glimpse of white water
The distant steeple of a church
That restaurant in Whately
I don’t recall that we ever used a map
Except perhaps to find the quickest way home
It must have rained sometimes
We must have got lost
Got stuck on one of those roads that has no turnings
No views and takes you miles out of the way
But, if so, I can’t recall
What I remember is infinite variety
Perfectly suited to our desires
The resourcefulness of a magician
Better than anything we could have conceived or expected
Never a disappointment
Always a joy
And what all this brings to mind
Is that that’s how it’s been being married to you
A ceaseless thrilling exploration
Always satisfying
You too are always new and full of surprises
Never a disappointment
Always a joy
Always alight with some new idea
Some new project
Always enthusiastic
Shining eyes, radiant smile, kisses
Respectful of my projects
As I am of yours
Forceful, impatient
Gentle, kind
Perfectly suited
As way has led on to way
And we find ourselves here now in Oregon
Reading aloud and gardening
Shopping and watching movies on the wall
Listening to music with dinner
Going for walks
Of which we never tire
Sharing our discoveries, opinions, frustrations
Yes, and we still sometimes go out exploring
To the Coast
Into the mountains
But here the roads are not like those around Amherst
The way is often too long
Roads end abruptly in dead ends
You rarely end up somewhere wonderful without planning
Yes, here one nearly always needs a map
But I need no map for you
I set off each morning
And find myself at home everywhere
Because you are beside me, right for me
As those roads in New England were right for us back then

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