Lockdown Vilanelle
Lockdown Villanelle Revd. Dr. Malcolm Guite I make another circuit of the lawn,And pad through shadows at my own slow pace,Watching and waiting for the coming dawn. Depressed and restless, yawning and forlorn,I follow my self-beaten path’s faint traceAnd make another circuit of the lawn Along the narrow way my steps have wornAround and round […]
From a Rooftop
From a Rooftop —East Lansing, Michigan— Dr. James Matthew Wilson To look out on the city of your birth, As headlights trace a pathway through the dark; To see the distant white upon the dome That governs every avenue and park, Will leave you sensing what you […]
Respects
Respects Mr. Rob Drapeau Dear Sir, it seems you’ve taken what is mineAnd done exactly what I’d hoped to do:You’ve trimmed the fat, added a stiffer spine,And made of him a better person who,Despite his countless shortcomings, reflectsHis Master’s good intentions and who canBoth be and act himself. I pay respectsTo you who took a […]
Hatching
Hatching Mr. Michael Yost I watched the last chick struggle from his shell,Through wet black blood and shaves of wood that stuckTo his small feathers, wizened, tired as well,Beneath the heat lamp. Then, by adverse luck His small right wing was wired by thin vesselsOf membrane he’d grown into like a seedIn soil; which clung, […]
Swallows
Swallows Revd. Dr. Malcolm Guite In early summer still they comeAnd bless us with their song,Circling and wheeling like our thoughts,Their flight tugs at our restless heartsThat we might leave all harms and hurtsTo be where we belong. And come September they will flyAnd skim the autumn airWhilst we in ‘swallow-flights of song’Give wing to […]
Desert Sky
Desert Sky Rose Carroll These weeks of parched and white-hot sky Have rolled in scorching, and rolled by And left the torrid air in turn For desert trees and leaves to burn. Spring greens held shortly; darker green There followed quickly where had been So briefly blossoms, now dried pod On pod adorned the ground. […]
Maple Tapping
Maple Tapping Mr. Michael Yost I like the process; boring into wood By hand, the blade-sharp drill-bit piercing good And deep, then pulling out so that the sap Drips sweetly down the bark. Then every tap Gets tapped in, buckets all hung tree by tree Then waiting day by chilly day to see And listen […]