Friday, March 08, 2013

This untimely trespass

 photo This-Country1.jpg

Our life is March weather, savage and serene in one hour.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

This Country

The storm breaks off a piece of black mesa, hurls rock
crashing through the air. We are huddled beneath March
aspens, bare and sere against thunderclap and skyrattle.

We tug at our coats where dying winter wants in,
button and zip out what Canada sends in hopes of
taking us into its vast and crippling confidence.

On the ground, evidence of Indian horses track away
unspoken in the dirt, soon to fill in with black rain.
We have survived in such places before, you and I.

We hold fast and scout the sky for any change, some
small forgiveness that might allow this untimely trespass,
but nothing shows or lessens so we gather and knot closer.

This country is nowhere to be safe from such things.
And then it comes, all at once, the hour savage and serene,
and we know again what it is to be this small before ourselves.

Joseph Gallo
March 7, 2013

 photo This-Country2.jpg

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