I like poems, do you?

Birthday Poem, 2011

by MARC BEAUDIN

A night of rain gives way
to a morning of snow
falling reluctantly from hawk-filled skies

with a bad back I hobble,
slower than my grandfather ever did,
out to the barn to feed the horses
and break the pane of ice
that seals their water trough
I don’t pause to see my reflection
I don’t ponder the possible symbolism
I don’t touch or smell or taste the metaphor
offered by windows of ice
revealing the depths of life

I simply stab with my fingertips,
shake off the water and replace my glove
realizing that the last twenty years or so are a blur,
though every memory before that
is as clear as the icicle hanging
from a strand of the mane on the white mare

     (the years now
          pass faster and faster)

a single magpie
blossoms in an apple tree
a new year begins

“though every memory before that
is as clear as the icicle hanging
from a strand of the mane on the white mare”

No icicles in Thailand. And I have no mare, but memories clear… of years ago… I have those, too.

If you go to the Poets’ Basement at counterpunch.org to read the poems there, two poems before, you will find Bow down to gold, by a ‘frustrated American’ named Matthew Clifford. I cannot help but think that he’s been to Thailand.

About jfl

A 66 year-old American male living in Chiangrai, Thailand
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One Response to I like poems, do you?

  1. Thanks for the tip. I think you’re right.

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