by nan lundeen
The weather’s unsettled on Easter Eve
like a restless cow about to calve,
the land licked clean by heady winds.
By early evening
sleet takes the land
collects on branches
slicks old snow
burdens old limbs—
conquered
they conjure thunderous cracks
like mindless destruction.
Lights flicker off
a match flares
a kerosene lantern
a smoke-smeared chimney.
The dark kitchen presses
in on Mother, Daddy, and me
huddled in a puddle of light
over eggs, the tang of vinegar
in cups of
rose
blue
yellow
green.
One by one
we balance them
on spoons,
lift them into the night.
Beautiful, evocative poem, Nan!
Thanks, Carolyn.
Of course it is beautiful how could it anything but
Thank you!
One of my favorites. Dying by lamp light.
Put an “e” in “dyeing,” & even better!
Ice storm beautiful!
Lovely….
Fills my soul, Nan. Ice Storm today, at the cusp of the New Year, evokes the same birthing. Your beautiful images enfold each other, with each brief, organic, non-linear, spacious line. I love the holy, nurturing cow metaphors, the land licked clean by heavy winds, bovine huddling expanded to humans, all in a puddle of light.
Thank you, Judy. The memory of us huddled around our egg coloring in a pool of light lives brightly.