Friday, 17 June 2016 14:42

June Poems 2016

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The whole expanse of the blue sky mixes

With the trees in the park where the people

Come for these few days of the season as

This is the time of the cherry blossoms


It’s the singularity of the pink

Flowering that touches the heart with a

Color that points the year because now is

When we celebrate the lifting of the


Winter cold and the returning of warm

Breezes and the stirring of growth with a

Strengthening sun and it’s natural to

Rejoice and cherish the moment of the


Cherry blooms because it may rain and the

Blossoms may separate and so vanish.


It’s quite natural

when the sun strengthens again

when the cherries bloom

for people to rejoice and

create a ceremony.




It’s ornate on the hill overlooking

The valley just below the historic

Courthouse and the memorial for those

Of the First Minnesota who died at


Gettysburg with its thick layering of

Brown paint on its carriage and with its dense

Coating of black the cannon seems a bit

Unreal but I’m impressed by its size and


Its design because there’s nothing graceful

About it because it’s meant for slaughtering

Soldiers and perhaps it’s the distance in

Time and from a battlefield that creates


A ceremonial vibe but to me

It represents ruthless brutality.


The bronze statue of

the union soldier with his

bayonet fixed is

advancing and concealing

the terror he must have felt.



The blooming crabapple tree is peaking

And its blossoms are streaming in the wind

While other flowering trees and hedges

Are opening and creating such a


Captivating sight as I’m driving in

Town and I’m wondering why this slice of

Nature affects me so as mosquitoes

And wood ticks are as natural as the


Cherry blooms as common as a bout of

Frenzied thinking my mind endures and so

Maybe it’s better not to question but

To appreciate the periodic


Appearance of beauty on the earth as

It blooms and then vanishes in the wind.


I can do without

the mosquitoes and wood ticks

but it is my choice

to overlook the pests and

be enamored with beauty.



Supposedly a dog’s nose is hundreds

Of times better than ours and when looking

About I see the people who’ve mastered

Their dogs walking together side by side


While other pairs aren’t so harmonious

And I wonder how the walk would go with

The dog in charge because he’s not wedded

To straight lines going from here to there he’s


Nosing the delectable enticements

Of the earth and we’re oblivious and

We require such pitiful restraint of

Our creatures — how well would you do if we


Put a leash on you and dangled tempting

Aromas out of reach and marched on home? 


Are we really the

bestest of friends or are we


and parsimonious as our

doggies obey commandments?




His smile and youth are very appealing

As the uniform and the cocked hat could

Indicate anyone going to a

World War and his name is Billy Spargo


And he looks like any teenager does

Though I know on a bombing raid over

Germany he was killed because my dad

Told me as they were friends in Australia


And the burst of tears surprises as dad

Said he died because the Allies needed

A show of strength — the smile disintegrates

Distance and time and decades later my


Dad mourned and as my dad has also died

The story of the photo is passing.


Once the people go

the stories of their photos

go along with them —

we are left with artifacts

but the memories are gone.



The eagle sways and drifts in currents of

Air skimming and unconcerned about the

Direction of the wind as it’s hunting

And following the movement of fish in


The water as the buffeting of wind and

The adjusting of wings and tail feathers

Comes as naturally as breathing and

If it chose instantaneously it


Would drop and strike with its talons to crush

And tear with a mighty grip and so death

Happens suddenly in the world and as

A symbol for comprehending eyes the


Eagle is a magnificent image —

Everything I know could instantly end.


There’s night and day and

spring summer fall and winter

there’s youth and aging

and my preoccupations —

just temporarily so.


Read 2529 times Last modified on Thursday, 02 November 2017 14:57
Barry MacDonald

Editor & Publisher of the St. Croix Review.
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