April 13, 2015
Where Grass is Pressed

When you’ve heard a door

creaking shut

and the wind is dying down

and the road is longer

than it should be, longer

than you thought it would be

and no one can tell you

how much farther on

the window in the welcome place

will be

look for a circle

where grass is pressed

into the ground, where it hasn’t

sprung back up yet—look

for the places where the animals

have slept. Rest is recent,

rest is possible again.

Close your eyes and nestle

into sleep, into love.


–Helen Frost (Allen County)


Helen Frost

Helen Frost writes for children, teens, and adults. Her books include novels-in-poems (Keesha’s House, Diamond Willow, Crossing Stones, Hidden, Salt), poetry collections (as if a dry wind), anthologies (Season of Dead Water), plays, picture books (Monarch and Milkweed, Sweep Up the Sun), and a book about teaching writing (When I Whisper, Nobody Listens). She has worked extensively with children and teens, helping them to live non-violently. She lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

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!

Posted In: Poetry

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