So much to say, so little time

 

Afterglow

 

I went outside toight.

It was 4:30 and a glowing beam of orange had caught my eye.

I went outside to watch the sun set,

And for the first time in a year, my heart calmed itself at the sight.

 

I perched atop a wooden fence, six feet tall.

The sun was still shining, only red-orange, no longer yellow.

The orange flowed out in rivers over the barren land.

My house began to glow.

The brown, naked trees burned red.

The gentle, cold breeze chilled my ears, and my kitten-kin cried.

 

I climbed to the roof and sat facing north.

In the west, the creekbed made a gap to divide the colors:

Red-orange on gray-blue.

Light on dark.

Beauty on perfection.

The spotty snow darkened.

 

I turned and looked southwest.

The sun extended its wide arms as it does twice a day:

Wide, wide, surrounding half the world.

The clouds lined themselves in shining pink.

The wind drew water from my eyes.

And then, the sun bowed, and left only the glow.

 

 

Irony

 

Whom I want to be

            is carefree and happy

And one who draws them in—

            all those who never looked

And yet, if I were she,

            I would be all that I despise

And they who came

            would find no hint of me inside.

            —1 July 1995

 

 

Ideas in English, 3^rd Hour

 

Bob bought a car.

Bob and the car are separate.

Very obviously, to an intelligent, normal

Human, the car cannot buy Bob.

 

English, 3^rd hour:

I would rather watch out the window

To see the dimming colors of autumn

And see the clouds hanging low.

 

Instead of subjects/verbs I see

A castle, surrounded green and soft

By a world unspoiled by coughing cars

Such as glide by the window.

 

I lean back and, drowsy, contemplate

The philosophical theology of the mind,

And in another world I watch adventures

No one has seen and never will know.

 

Not the teacher’s fault—No,

She did not make me see this on a schedule last year.

But even so I softly sigh

And drag myself back to reality

Of English, 3^rd Hour.

            —17 October 1989

 

 

To Draw to the Earth

 

 Slowly now, but visibly, the moon

            ascends the sky

And emerges, its pale gold to brighten

And before too long you can see it lighten

            the tips of the clouds

It has topped, and all is vast to it.

 

Lying across my porch of hard stone

            I look across the cornfield

And it does not curve, but holds a straight line

As far as I can see, into the line of dabbled shine

            that a paintbrush touched

On its quiet way to eternity.

 

I am unbelieving; how can that disk of gently smiling

            gold be so huge

To top our world in its time

And how can our world curve when mine

            eyes see only a long

Row of endless life?

 

If ever I entertained doubts

            of the healing of the earth

Which, for all its splendor, is more gentle to me

And soothes my wounds and gives me courage to be

            whatever I need to be

And gives me strength, those doubts are gone.

            —14 October, 1989