Today's poem is by Carol Ann Davis
At This Hour
Say I am not wrong to want the two finches who ring out.
Say I've begun to lose my wayno one dies
from saying it, no one even turns in their sleep. Certainly I've fallen
into old patterns, the tile markings, the blue
of the milkmaid's apron in the painting, the boys' homework cascading
from the high table. And more
the note saying "today I felt moody; I ate very little at lunchtime;
at nap I slept," that plus the hand-lettered sign
over the cafeteria freezer offering your choice of chocolate or skim
it has a certain feel to it, easily it becomes life as we know it. Still,
there's something else. It's dawn now, the school busses flash
their warning lights. Even moments ago, I could feel it,
the sky purpling to blue, the leaves of the maple
there's no maple but I do remember one, Japanese or red,
a companion from a dreamand there's more, just under the surface,
reticulating, pulled out to pasture, faithful in its disorder.
Or the disorder's me, I'm the object turning in the light,
and the two finches who know I'm alive
are turning too, very quickly
very quickly headed they know not where.
Copyright © 2011 Carol Ann Davis All rights reserved
from Atlas Hour
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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