I wrote my first self-defining poem when I was a Senior in high school and it was included in a student literary magazine. I felt good about myself when the mother of a former girlfriend gushed over it. I hoped she made her daughter read it. Actually, I hoped she made her daughter like it. Here we go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My Aunt Claudine, aged 90, passed away a year or two ago. As I child I spent a lot of time at her farm in Wisconsin. It is her and Mel’s farm I write about here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The black shining birds trailed us walking,
pecking at the empty nests
where we\u2019d picked the rocks,
frost-heaved to the surface,
a problem for the planting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jerry, a neighbor kid,
bent with my cousins and me,
tossing our prizes to the wagon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Underhanded, the rocks arced,
flew across the morning sun,
dropped with a thud to the wood deck,
sometimes clicking against others
in the still flock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mel turned the horses for a new row.
Dark as stones, weighted by need,
walking, watching, the grackles troubled the turned earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, look at this,\u201d Jerry said.
I turned, looking up.
He threw, straight as a hawk, one rock at my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The blood mingled with my tears.
\u201cYou be careful.\u201d Mel said.
\u201cIt was an accident.\u201d Jerry said.
My cousins kept picking rocks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And, in the next row,
we threw rocks high again.
Watching their fall onto the wagon,
I kicked at the furrows and
guessed the number of rows remaining.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The walking birds behind hopped sideways, <\/p>\n\n\n\n Next:<\/p>\n\n\n\n City Hall<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I wrote my first self-defining poem when I was a Senior in high school and it was included in a student literary magazine. I felt good about myself when the mother of a former girlfriend gushed over it. I hoped … Continue reading
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