Poems by Joan Colby

Aubade

The light cringes in the east
As darkness kidnaps the moon.
Takes it in its arms
And carries it off. Somewhere bells ring
In praise or warning. Mosquitoes rise
Like saboteurs out of the dense trees.
Of all creatures these
Are the deadliest. Number the crimes
Committed by the winds.
How the owl's shadow investigates
The secrets that you keep.

Go back to sleep, I tell you.
When you wake, all will be arranged
For your appetite. A pitcher of milk,
A bowl of berries, biscuits dripping
Honey. The bees are at the purple phlox.
The hummingbird sips nectar.

Uno Más

Mid-summer and the heat breaks records across the midlands.
Every day the skies flood like a bereaved woman.

Impatiens wilt in their hanging pots.
Field corn head-high in a green glory.

What we want as age claims us:
To wake with a benison of light limning the horizon.

Bird cries that stitch the morning.
Black coffee, yogurt, berries.

The dog standing at the door.
How life resolves into these elementals.

Dew burns off the lawn. The neighbor's truck
With its legend: Uno Más

A hand reaching for another beer.
For one more day, one more week, one more year.

Uno Más. One more.