Three Poems

Horseneck Road After a Drenching Rain

A golden morning
the road lined
with waist-high timothy

bronze in the searing sun
ground cracked and hard
no rain for weeks.

Buds brown without bloom
trees droop
yet Queen Anne’s Lace,

cornflowers and purple clover
thrive amid all
that’s wilted and dying.

Runoff from last night’s
downpour
pools in dirt lanes

that branch off
the hot black road,
puddles of holy water.

Minha Querida (My Beloved)

He had come home to die
in his own bed,
surrounded by his books and flowers,
his sweetheart by his side.

It was always understood
that she would die first,
it was non-negotiable, she’d said,
subject closed.

Now, he was asking her to let him go,
and she felt cheated and afraid.
Watching the night sky fill with stars,
he became the consoler,
his work nearly done, hers just beginning.

Bit by bit, he helped her remember
their lifetime together,
spirited soulmates,
raising kids and traveling the world
mostly with laughter, always with love.

With one last breath, he slipped away
while she slept beside him.
Later, she would awaken
to the scent of yellow roses.

To see the stars as a blind man

stand face tilted upward
beneath the black, sequined sky,
stretch out each arm, palms up,
with eyes closed and imagine a line

drawn from a single star
you are fixed on to first
your right hand, then your left,
filling each with starlight.

Feel the hum, the vibration,
between earth and inwardness,
and experience
perfect sight.

Vincent van Gogh, The Starry Night (1888) (detail). View full painting.

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  Vincent van Gogh, The Starry Night (1888)

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