Pastime

Because I’ve slowed
to a tempo I used to dream of
back when my children were children,
I’ve taken up new pastimes—
crosswords, birds, obituaries.

Mornings, I walk a narrow canyon
that leads to a graveyard,
practicing my skills.
Black-headed grosbeak? Warbler
or wren? What’s a four-letter word

for end? I won’t call them golden,
exactly, these moments.
Picture something darker—
light struggling through trees,
finding its way.

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Cynthia White's poems have appeared in Narrative, New Letters, Poet Lore, ZYZZYVA, and Grist among others. She's been both finalist and semi-finalist for Nimrod's Pablo Neruda Prize and was the winner of the Julia Darling Memorial Prize from Kallisto Gaia Press. She lives in Santa Cruz, California.