Let Me Tell
for Jorie Graham
Let me tell of sunset on solstice eve
staining damp fog with bright warmth
brown mulch underfoot from fallen leaves
of stars outshone by satellites
of death iced over by frost
of silence
in the snowy woods
Let me tell
of how things came to be
and why they stay that way
Then early in March mulch is raked away
making room for crocuses, wood hyacinths, jonquils
then there will be an unfurling of daffodils
pale green changing to bright yellow
morning sunlight will slant through leafless trees
highlight acanthus leaves on the fountain
fall on Glen Russell's statue of a naiad
an early plum in bud
winter flowering jasmine
after weeks of overcast days sodden with rain
sunshine and sudden warmth
transplants thrive
kinglets feed in the canopy
while song sparrows forage below
oblivious of an unseen gaze
fixed on them
robins return to the birdbath
small trees pruned to produce fruit
don't shade the garden
green moss turns brighter green
shot weed must be weeded
news from afar only disturbs us
surfing from what's in sight to what's in mind
decisions got kicked down the road
not like the cans I kicked in my misspent youth
enjoying the clattering disturbing the peace
but kicked faraway for a status quo quiet
not rocking the boat
not confronting the foe
but appeasing him
Let me tell
of how things came to be
and why they stay that way
Will cynicism strangle hope in its cradle
now that nine kicked the can down the road?
Will it come clear why they chose to enable
delay, favoring someone who’d goad
insurrection rather than lose to Joe?
An old man of eighty who is slow on his feet
but spry in his brain a formidable foe
carrying the country away from defeat.
Away from judges five males cloaked in black
when they overturned Roe, another whack
at freedom with their jurist’s clenched fist
who trashed women’s rights to favor a rapist.
In November we’ll know what the nine hath wrought.
How we hope the future cannot be bought.
Dick Russell © 2024
Richard M Russell
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