Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Molly Fisk: Singing Canyon Sonnet

I have to say something about the blue grasses by the side of the road, 

the red rock rising behind them, a lacy kind of scrub juniper, 

yellow-green in afternoon light, dotted here and there up the broken slope 

.

and walls scraped sheer, the red striated with bars of gold and brown.

I have to tell how two greasy ravens startled from their perch 

made a raucous noise in the slot canyon. Their cries bounced upward 

.

magnified by a hundred where I had just been singing Amazing Grace

and they had not stirred, the only hymn whose verses I reliably remember. 

My boots raised puffs of fine red dust behind me walking back to the car. 

.

I should mention that the aspen leaves were thumbnail-sized and vivid,

that anvil clouds quickly overtook the sun, that before I saw those thirty-seven 

white-tailed deer I was feeling unbearably lonely and I might as well confess 

.

how acutely I miss the man I left at home even though I drove

two thousand miles away from him to figure out which one of us to love.


Copyright 2019 Molly Fisk

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Information

This entry was posted on March 27, 2019 by in Environmentalism, Poetry and tagged , , , , , .

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 10,465 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 3,512,767 hits

Archives

%d bloggers like this: