Double Down

The distant echo of your voice calling me home
      Across fields of new mown hay
I turn my head away, I do not want to go
       Your soft whisper follows, I feel your longing
I am not ready to take up an angelic post
       Snow white feathers would not suit me
Or God forbid, the other place where coal is needed
      Did I slip into a place where the forked one gave me a large spade?
I love you still, alas I have much to do
      All the things that frightened you, I understand
There are mountains to climb where you would not go
      Your fear of the unknown kept you locked inside
There are snow slopes calling, louder than your echo
       Do you now have eternity to roam?

© Anita Dawes 2021

Is this one poem, or three? What do you think?