Although I’m not posting a poem a day (as in some past years), still in honor of poetry month, one from D. Nurske.
A Rest in Our Savior’s Garden
The fat pigeons
don’t seem exhausted.
A squirrel begs
with a trace of contempt.
A tiny sparrow
walks straight up to me
wide-eyed in a trance
in the shadow of wings —
even though each crumb
that falls from my fingers
glints with fever.
Sickness with the force of miracle.
The statue of the Virgin
wears a stone veil.
I still have a few poppy seeds
in the life-line and the love-line
but now the birds are gone,
the squirrel found an acorn,
night hides the wasp
that once made my body
the center of a dazzling circle.
A Few Reasonable Words 