Day 737 of the Daily Poems, and speaking of portals, our poet Anne Boileau negotiates a narrow causeway and a broken stile to reach her destination …
Consolation
When the lane is winding and the causeway narrow
and you’re not quite sure where you ought to be,
with nothing but a sack of sorrow,
a broken stile and some flints of memory;
it’s dusk, the light is fading, you can’t see,
and yesterday’s more vivid than tomorrow,
you’ll find you do reach where you need to be
though the lane is winding and the causeway narrow.
Anne Boileau
First published in Twelve Rivers, Suffolk Poetry Society