October Pantoum
I hear the snip of distant pruning shears.
A lizard scurries up a lifeless stalk.
My youngest daughter reaching fourteen years—
My back leans hard against immortal rock.
A lizard scurries up a lifeless stalk.
I hear schoolchildren chirping with the birds.
My back leans hard against immortal rock,
My heart exhales from left to right, like words.
I hear schoolchildren chirping with the birds.
My eldest comes tomorrow for five days.
My heart exhales from left to right, like words—
She’ll hug and eat and sleep and slip away.
My eldest comes tomorrow for five days.
Some leaves still flutter green against the blue.
She’ll eat and sleep and hug and slip away.
One quail down by the creek is asking, “Who?”
Some leaves still flutter green against the blue.
The rumble of an airplane passes over.
One quail down by the creek is asking, “Who?”
Across these lines, a lone ant runs for cover.
The rumble of an airplane passes over.
I wonder at the heat, the smell of burning.
Across these lines, a lone ant runs for cover.
The shadows shift. I know the Earth is turning.
I wonder at the heat, the smell of burning,
My youngest daughter reaching fourteen years.
The shadows shift. I know the Earth is turning.
I hear the snip of distant pruning shears.
--Laura Sandage
This poem appeared in the Davis Poetry Book, 2011.
It was written at Cache Creek Nature Preserve in Fall 2010.