By Matthew Francis
After Robert Hooke
All afternoon a reddish trickle
a sort of rust that shines and dances.
traveler finicking its way round
A finger felled in their path rocks them,
the air for subtle intelligence,
They are fidgety subjects to draw.
kill one, the juices evaporate
I dunked one in brandy. It struggled
I let it soak an hour, then dried it,
the grinning vice of its sideways jaw,
Some draft stirred it then. It rose to all
Source: Poetry (October 2014)
More Poems about Nature
A Wing and a Prayer
We thought the birds were singing louder. We were almost certain they
were. We spoke of this, when we spoke, if we spoke, on our zoom screens
or in the backyard with our podfolk. Dang, you hear those birds? Don’t
they sound loud?...
Here’s an Ocean Tale
My brother still bites his nails to the quick,
but lately he’s been allowing them to grow.
So much hurt is forgotten with the horizon
as backdrop. It comes down to simple math.
The beach belongs to none of us, regardless
of color, or money....