Monday, November 14, 2016



Remnants still visible

          by  Marge Piercy




Robins migrate, all schoolchildren
learn but here on the Cape, every
winter a flock forms and stays,
long frigid months after their
compatriots have flown south.
They live deep in the woods on
hips and berries wizened by cold.
Sometimes they appear here
among the feeder birds, one
or two almost outcasts.
Off Alaska when humpback whales
leave in fall as the waters freeze
and the world turns white, heading
for mating grounds off Hawaii
and Mexico, certain whales remain.
What makes a creature stay when
almost all of its kind have moved on?
In burned-out areas of Detroit,
you’ll notice one house still wears
curtains, a bike locked to the porch.
Sometimes in the suburbs among
tract houses with carpets of grass
one farmhouse lurks, maybe even
with a barn. I imagine its owner
grey and stubborn, still growing
the best tomatoes for miles, refusing
to plant inedible grass, fighting
neighbors about her chickens,
a rooster who crows at four,
her clothesline a flag of defiance.
I believe in the days ahead poetry will be needed. Words from those who have walked these paths and know the landmarks and twisted turns that lie ahead. 

6 comments:

  1. Thank you. Poetry is most needed now and this brought me to tears. Nice to see you post.

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  2. LOVE this poem. Thank you! And, yes, poetry has a way of helping...always....

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  3. I was saying the Very Same Thing just two days ago, that I might have to have my own Poetry Month very soon.

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  4. Nice to be back. Our words and thoughts here are much needed, and appreciated.

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)