blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1



Dispatch From the Outpost

Distant one—today the weather
will not cooperate, will not stay put
in proper April, but lurches backwards
cold and gray. The birds do not take notice.
A meadowlark emerges from the brush,
sparrows cluster under the sweet gum,
and finches feed on the wild thistle.
Here, I am in the company of wings.

Along this marsh, I have space
to walk and unravel what I want to say.
This is the thinning-down time, month
of thunder and hail and half-finished meals.
Days ago, the wind knocked down the power
lines, arcing sparks that fireworked the sky.
The house went mute, and I was alone
in the silence that lives under the silence
of a one-bedroom home.
Here, the world is all wait and want,
patience, the charm you tied around my wrist.

And this—consider on your return
that every season finds us changed.  

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