The Extra Mile
A poem by Linda Conroy

The Extra Mile

I forget the purpose of this ride, the thread run through the day
slips from my fingers as gulls flicker in a dappled light.

Clouds swell and rain soon splashes on the window of the truck.
The sky might empty all at once, a crack in sight and sound

that fills with roaming of my eyes. I see the splendor of a thing
submerged, spilled cargo in a backwater when currents turned.

I sense the shadow on the path becoming shapes, glimpses
of the ordinary, shards made smooth by crinkle of the tide.

Beyond, I watch the old ones resting on the harbor wall,
see in their gaze the wish to bring back younger selves.

I, too, trace wistful memories on the backdrop of my mind,
and though our afternoon has passed, we’re steadfast, strong,

our landscape now a watercolor, trickling and smudged.
The sun, behind, makes silhouettes of what we’ve missed.

About the Author:

Linda Conroy, a retired social worker, likes to write about the complexities of human nature and our connection to the natural world. Her poems have appeared in various journals and anthologies. She is the author of two poetry collections, Ordinary Signs and Familiar Sky. 

Poetry Breakfast publishes a new poem every weekday morning.
If you’d like your poems considered for publication visit our Poetry Submissions page.

Follow Poetry Breakfast
Facebook