Instructions for a Gathering

A book of poems and art intermingling the flora and fauna of the Camino.

Gatherings from the natural world to celebrate what remembers and is remembered.

Begin with your feet—half open—

not like a prayer,

but somehow tendered

for veneration.

Walk first, to the door, then

onto stone;

It is your first day.

Your body wearies

with the thought

of climbing

what will come;

In the night,

one man’s lullaby

kept you awake—

You learned to hear a river in your mind.

This is a place of beginnings,

Also, of endings

Of losings and findings,

Comings and goings;

A man before you plays

a harmonica

from the steps of a church

open to the street

You follow his hands to his eyes;

the nod he gives

of recognition

to another face

well-lived

holding a staff with feathers;

You gather their weariness

like stones

Begin your walk

under a clock tower

across a bridge

Noticing that

nothing is silent;

Pilgrims sound

beside cars;

Nothing is silent.

You gather that, too.