| Braziel: Five Poems Page 2 | ||
Gray Old corner post, staring out at the field, keeping together arms of fence, watching and holding in rain, sun, clouds like these overtaking March with wild geese returning, the beginning of grasses that will become a thick patch of blue-jade, then brown wisps, dry for the cutting, the geese going out again- autumn-leaves stirring past the barbed wires, blankets of ice in winter. This sentry landlocked to the earth, refusing to give to the wind, holding this corner of pasture forever.  | March March has a way of leaving everything childless: branches without leaves, a sky unsettled, an earth without blooms for us to wander through, house to car uncertain that these directions are taking us where we want to go. I hear crying in the fierce wind, pieces of snow trying to make a patch on the ground. Wandering, wandering-that is what is left to us until the sun comes closer and the wind consents, wandering and staring back at the cries we heard or thought we heard, that were ours maybe, a child with footsteps perishing in the snow.  | |
