Friday, 12 July 2019 11:54

June 2019 Poems

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While my lilac bushes aren’t very thick

It’s hard to mow the grass underneath them

Or to rake the leaves surrounding them as

Their branches fork at odd angles and each


Branch will sprout many shoots — and because the

Bushes aren’t very thick at a glance it

Seems that nothing is in the way — but when

I approach them suddenly I am stopped


Tangled and scratched and held at a distance —

And if I can reach the leaves under the

Bushes the rake is caught in a stubborn

And interlocking net of sinewy


Defiance as I encounter the wild

And resourceful life of lilac bushes.


I imposed order

and symmetry

on the periphery

with a ladder a saw

and a hedge clipper.



When I close my eyes when facing the sun

I see a marvelous red light that is

The sunlight filtered by my eyelids — and

My face is bathed in the beating of the


Sun and after a few minutes I am

A little dizzy — and the red sunlight

Warming my face helps me to imagine

Myself a tomato under the sky


With nothing to do all day but listen

To the drone of cars and machinery

In the distance and absorb the force of

The persisting sunlight enveloping


And tranquilizing me in unceasing

Dissolving forgetful meditation.





my face

would be




A boy on a walk in Iowa was

Curious about an odd looking stone

And the stone fit snuggly in the palm of

His hand and the stone had been chipped and flaked


And it was weighty and edged and fashioned

For cutting and scraping and maybe the

Stone had laid on the ground for a thousand

Or ten thousand years — was buried under


The dirt and unearthed or was exposed to

Unnumbered starry nights obdurate to

The wind the snow the rain and the glare of

The sun until a boy in Iowa


Noticed an odd stone on the ground — and its

Weight and shape within his palm was perfect.









The bee hummingbird is an exquisite

Native of Cuba with fluttering wings

Iridescent feathers and a pointy

Little beak and the bird and its nectar


Are coincident because one could not

Exist without the other — just as I

Could not exist without the sky the rain

And the earth — this is what the earth has come


To with hummingbirds and flowers and rain

And people — as we are emerging out

Of the trillions and trillions of degrees

That was coincident with the little


Space that was expanding rapidly that

The scientists are naming the big bang.


The bee hummingbird

and me are a

continuation a

permutation of

the big bang.



What does the air do to a butterfly

As it emerges from a Chrysalis

Not having been a butterfly before

And discovering that it has wings — and


Does it fall and flutter as it falls or

Does it arouse itself and beat the air

With its wings to rise into the air for

Its initial flight — and is it a strain


On a butterfly’s heart to push down on

The air as its beating heart is in sync

With its sashaying manner — and is the

Air the same air the gliding eagle or


The acrobatic swallow knows or is

It living in a different cosmos?


What does the

butterfly think as

it encounters drops

of rain and a

boisterous wind?


Read 3603 times Last modified on Friday, 12 July 2019 12:01
Barry MacDonald

Editor & Publisher of the St. Croix Review.
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