Vox Populi
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Byron Hoot: Two poems about beginning and ending
The Hint of Beginnings
I look twice at my walking shadow.
The height is wrong,
the broadness too narrow,
the darkness more porous.
I seem to block less light
than I used to. Still, it follows,
sometimes leads. The attachment
is obvious – I move, it moves.
I suppose it’s not a bad thing
having more light show through;
sometimes, I see the hint of wings.
~~~
Early
The death of my father is nearly a month
away – 31 years. The haunting of longing
has begun. The end of his life was nothing
like the fullness of it. How apropos he
died in the fall, his favorite time of the year.
What do I miss most? Perhaps the way he clasped
his hands together after the good-bye hug and kiss
on our necks as if another victory – a triumph of love –
had been won. The visitation this year, early, has begun.
““
~~~~
Born and raised in Morgantown, West Virginia, Byron Hoot now lives alone in the wilds of Pennsylvania. His books include Setting Moon Morning Twilight: Predawn Meditations.
Copyright 2025 Byron Hoot
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What beautiful poems–thank you!
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I love Byron’s poems. He is the least literary poet I know. He lives alone in the woods, hunting, fishing and reading Kant.
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Our shadows and the thought we are both dwindling.
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What got me is those ten little syllables:
“I seem to block less light
than I used to.”
Thank you for introducing me to Byron Hoot’s work — I’m ordering his Predawn Meditations now…
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Yes, these poems have a simple profound wisdom that hits me at my core.
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“a triumph of love”–wow. Thank you for these beautiful poems full of haunting and mystery.
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Thanks, Rosemerry. I’ve come to love the quiet meditations of this American contemplative.
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Thanks for these two very relatable, lovely poems. I wrote a poem last year about my shadow, but I wasn’t so kind. I berated him for making me appear “elderly.” But the shadow does always know the truth, doesn’t he, she? My father gone 42 years; kind, quiet, always smiling>
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Thanks, Leo!
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Beside you a walking shadow in the space you traverse.
In a longed for time, a father’s love found a way to carry on, even decades later.
I like the interplay between space in the first poem, time in the second.
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Exactly! Thanks, Jim.
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