Each day clings like a rusty burr.
For hues of brown, be grateful.
Even the cricket knows
it’s safe to sing in the sewer.
You leave early to walk
the creekbed’s lost and found:
tooled flint, geodes, bones
arranged by hunger.
As the sun domes to a disk
you enter the field, flat swirls
of grass where last night
the deer dreamed.
You pick the promised bouquet
of ironweed, goldenrod,
teasingly damp in your arms,
thistle still waving goodbye
to the finch as you turn home,
the new day’s sky a grim
prediction of sunny and dry.
Be patient. By night
one moon of many names
will cool the sky as you shorten
the evening reading the Spanish poet,
the syllabic pleasure of his name
like nine green birds.
-Roger Pfingston (Monroe County)
first published in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Fall/Winter 2010-2011
A retired teacher of English and photography in Bloomington, Roger Pfingston is the recipient of a poetry fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. A poem recently published in Poetry East will be featured in Ted Kooser’s weekly column, “American Life in Poetry,” in December of this year. His latest chapbook, A Day Marked for Telling, is available from Finishing Line Press.
Indiana Humanities is celebrating National Poetry Month by sharing a poem from an Indiana poet every day in April (hand-selected by Indiana Poet Laureate George Kalamaras). Check in daily to see who is featured next!