Thursday, July 2, 2015


 By Dane L. Ficklin

I can see you if I close my eyes.

The sun is dying. The sky burns with reds and yellows through air thick and heavy with the heat of the passing day. The wind softly blows light caresses across our skin, and we are soothed. It dances with the dusklight through the leaves of the trees and the sounds of insects, rising slowly with each passing moment. It is a chorus of crickets, singing the songs of summer.

The light and the wind play in your hair, and you smile. The world in my heart turns for that sight.

You touch my hand.

I feel the easy sheen on your skin. I feel the world shift as you spin and laugh, delighting at the simple joy of the sound. The grass beneath your feet is your stage, and on it I see you. Mossy limbs from the trees curve overhead, a scaffold to the sky that seems so close when you are close, and so far when you are far. A sky that births stars, in ones and in twos, as today creeps closer to tomorrow, as it ages from orange to purple.

The sun slips behind the world, and mourns to be gone. You are missed by light, and so light comes back.

Like the stars in that near sky, close enough to be touched, the light is born in ones and in twos. You and the light dance upon your green stage, enthroned by the deepening sky. It flits and twirls around you, alights upon your form, is ensconced with wonder by your two hands, and at last set free.

I long to be so free as the light in your hands, upon your face and in your eyes. Free to touch and to feel, free to live and die a sun, a star, for every today and tomorrow, until the tomorrows run out and all that is left is me and you and the light between us that never fades.

Where even if I close my eyes, I can still see you.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Before I Knew Your Name

Before I Knew Your Name
D.L. Ficklin

Before I knew your name, I loved the fall.
 I loved to see the leaves change, from green
(my favourite colour)
 To yellow, orange, red and brown
Before falling from their branches to the earth below
Their scent sweet and wild
And I loved it.

I loved the fall because when I was young
My father would rake the leaves into piles
For myself and my siblings to play in
I loved the chill of the season
Seeing my breath in the crisp air
A tangible and ethereal sign that I was alive
I would play-pretend that I was a dragon
A dragon bundled in jacket, scarf and cap
Knocking  over the flimsy, leaf-made castles
Built by my brothers and sister
My father would fuss once the playing was done
At how we had made such a mess of his work
And then rake them into piles again
While I would peer under stones in the garden
To find snails just to see them
And I loved it.

Before I knew your name, I loved the fall.
I would wander the woods and sit by the streams
Watching turtles dig into the soft banks
Peering at the sharp, clear blue sky
Between the waving, windblown branches.
I would climb trees
Scrape my knuckles and knees on the bark
Home in time for supper
Or at least bed
And I loved it.

But now that I know your name, I love the fall.
I love to see the leaves change from green
To the colour of your hair
(My favourite colour)
I love to watch them fall to the earth
In a windblown dance that dazzles and delights
And I am reminded of your smile
And I love it

I love the fall because since now I know your name
There is not one thing that I cannot find it in
Not a sound in nature that I do not hear it in
From the whistling wind between bare branches
To the murmur of the stream
To the exclamation points of footsteps on leaves
In the heady scent of the autumn forest I find you
In the cold on my ears and the backs of my hands
In the last bloom in the garden before winter
Which, when it comes, I will love
Because I know your name
And after that, each day, each season, until, in the end, they run out
I will love, because I know your name
Because I love your name
Because I love you.

Friday, October 3, 2014

None, (Everything Else)

None, (Everything Else)
D.L. Ficklin

I sit and fret, the music plays
and pulls me, from my core
insistent as ever
(As it always seems to be)
And it isn't it, or her, or then
    or why
        or if
It is none, but all and everything else

It plays and pulls
shapes, breaks-- It troubles
(As it never has, as I never knew it could)

Until I am Not, then suddenly More
pulled, shaped
changed like leaves and seasons
To be set drifting
on waves like starlight and soft blankets
 A current lifted and flown
between the song and the music
Where the music is you
Where it is you
And all and everything else

2:05 AM
Oct. 3, 2014

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Here, where no leaves fall

Here, where no leaves fall
D. Ficklin

Were I not here, where no leaves fall
I would chase them as they did
And pick them up
And trace the lines of their veins
Each one a sketch of their parent tree
My handfuls a forest
A bouquet of orange and yellow and red
For you to toss back to the wind

In my dreams you do
And I breathe the heady scent of the woods
And the wind
And each footfall is an exclamation point
And we walk, scarf-entangled
And though the air is cool
Our hands and eyes are warm

Sunday, March 17, 2013


So far
I have watched every sunrise this week
without fail,
you were in each one.

Whether in the sun, or the clouds,
or the horizon, I cannot say,
only that you were.

Which is odd,
as a sunrise
Is perhaps the only thing that We
(together, you and I)
never shared.

And so
every sunrise this week
and every sunrise
every sunrise
holds you
while I, only seeing, do not.