This Feeling

This feeling...

is not about a place
though this place I'm walking by
gives me the feeling of the place
where I first had this feeling.

I was young
and single

between the woman's cages
of father and husband
between the stages
of being mothered and mothering,

just me and
who I might become.

Barefoot on a bare floor
in a bare room,
book on a bare knee,
upstairs on a quiet street
tree at the curb
tossing shadows across the page.

Skin hot from sun
on pavement walking,
cooling near the window
loose blouse lifts.

It was always a summer day
when I had this feeling
and I was always
starting a new job
in a new town
where nobody knew me and
I knew nobody
least of all myself,

with no other place to be,
alone in
my own place.

It's summer now
and I am again single,
an empty-nested widow
in a new town
beginning another poem,
still not knowing who
I might become

and I get this feeling back
fleetingly
as it ever was.

Who knew
the crone
would mirror
the maiden.