Black-eyed Susans gossip in the gullies
between the road and corn
past harvest,
clouds in feather boas waltz
through pale silk skies, and cows head home
for milking, while
the hawk holds vigil on a fence post.
– Sarah Russell
First published in The Houseboat
Republished in Your Daily Poem
He holds vigil in a ravaged tree,
his fields, once tall with corn,
now snow-tipped stubble.
He accepts the unforgiving wind,
the cold, thin light – not wishing
for tomorrow or warmth or spring –
alive only in what is.
I close my eyes, clear my mind
of stubble in my own fields,
gather Now around me like feathers,
like breath.
When I look again, he rises
on fierce, decisive wings –
his crimson tail as brilliant in the January sky
as truth.
Sarah Russell
First published in Prey Tell
Sarah Russell Poetry 