It’s the third Thursday of the month, which means it’s time for A Gathering of Poetry - welcome!
Last month I posted a poem by Barbara Crooker. She was a new poet to me then, but in the month since, I've been reading more of her poetry and I continue to be impressed. The poem I chose this month spoke so clearly of the landscape, what I've been seeing outdoors, and how I've been feeling that I had to choose Barbara Crooker again this month.
Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself
by Barbara Crooker
like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.
====
Crooker, Barbara. "Sometimes, I Am Startled Outside of Myself." Radiance. Word Press, 2005.
You can read more about the poet here.
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Thank
you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You
are
more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share
one of your
favorite poems. The more the merrier!
Wow, that is perfection Bonny... and I am coming from that same place where "grief has strung me out to dry". Thank you (and dear Barbara) for providing the gentle reminders that spring will come again...someday.
ReplyDeleteThat is really a perfect poem for these times. It illustrates so perfectly how nature is a great reminder that there is always hope.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem, Bonny. I have read a few of Barbara Crooker's poems - I think in anthologies, mostly - and they always speak to me. I'd like to read more of her work. I love the imagery . . . and the line "hope is borne on wings." Thank you! XO
ReplyDeleteI love hearing the geese escaping overhead this time of year. It’s duck season so I’m happy to see them go. I wish the mallards would join them.
ReplyDelete