Yes, it is a long way from Clare
to the financial district, but it has a good view
of elbows and mid-sections,
backpacks and shoulder bags.
Although equally crowded, it’s true that,
under normal circumstances,
the commuter train is faster.
Today, however, is far from normal,
and Grace resonates
on the shuttle bus
leaving from the derailment.
-In memory of Jim McCann, October 26, 1944 – March 5, 2015
Vera S. Scott
written 18 July 2019
Quiet morning. Fans no longer growl.
Thunderstorms sliced through the heat
A single gentle breeze
peeks under the easterly curtains
then drops them
back into place.
Pink and purple clouds serrate and bank together
watching the slivered moon and one star;
shop lights burn in the vacant building.
(from June 2017)
Starling nibbles seed
from overgrown front lawns;
cars zip on paved streets
Three days ago it mattered.
We wondered how many
crows gather on the church’s crenellation; how seldom
words contain the vowel formation oeu;
how gradually to stir uncooked risotto into the boiling water.
Who cares now?
By what audacity does decanted wine breathe,
or, linen covered pillows rest fluffily and unaffected?
We hear distance winds loudly agitate the water’s surface,
witness gray squirrels restlessly
dash through our gardens. Each of our feet plods
over and over after the other
in the emptiness
of dusk. But there seems no reason for it.
It simply continues to happen.
*Thomas Barton 1977-2019
against windows; trees
murmur your names.
(originally written 24 October 1987″