|Every Easter weekend at our farm by the river
the bunny hid jellybeans.
My sister and I found them on dusty window sills,
behind the salt and pepper shakers, between
napkins in the wooden basket
on the long trestle table that was our grandmother’s.
We’d pop them quickly into our mouths –
sweet was rare in our family.
|When you arrived, pushed into splitting glare,
I wasn’t sure you were there - no shrieking red face,
just small, still, quickly veiled
by an oxygen mask, nurse’s fingers
flicking the soles of your feet
as if they could be entry for breath.
|Johann Sebastian Bach wrote a quantity of keyboard music:
preludes, fugues, inventions - polyphony,
meaning fragments of melody interweaving like
knit and purl forming a scarf of sound, so that
by the time you play it from beginning to end,
|Skipjack, my cousin claims,
Long beam, single mast far forward, trunk cabin just aft.
But it’s the tomatoes that claim my eye:
bushels and baskets, lined up on deck and dock,
ripe rubies. Two men in overalls bend and lift.
Above, sails are furled, rigging slashes the sky.
Beyond, the river curves from Quaker Neck to Shippen Creek.
|Consider those whales who
drive themselves up on beaches, strand themselves—
no one knows why they do it,
they can’t seem to stop nor
All that can be done to help
is gently stroke their brows,
pour salt water across their backs
as they keen their song on the sand.