Read To Me Some Poem
by Maryli Tiemann and Alice Persons, Editors
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by Robert Chute, poet
The extent these poems are autobiographical is irrelevant; they have a voice of their own, leading you on to encounters, partings, grief, and pleasures so convincing you feel a bit of a voyeur. With a visual background of childhood scenes and backyard nature, a musical score from Bach through bluegrass to Willie Nelson, this is reality poetry, as far from abstract and academic as poems can be.
Early Spring
The crocus has pushed up through the dead grass,
buds of yellow, white, purple;
long narrow daffodil buds, creamy green,
reach for the sun;
snow still stands around the edges
of my early spring garden.
I sit on the steps in my jammies,
coffee, poodle beside me,
listening to bird songs I haven't heard
for almost a year.
My bare toes dance on the steps,
feet breathing fresh air.
Inside myself I dance,
a child, round and round,
watching my pretty skirt
swing wide, open.
"Mommy, mommy, watch me,"
my flower buds sing to the sun.
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