April Poem 2020
From Our House Behind the Churchyard, After a Storm
An hour after the storm, tree
limbs still sway, their green-leafed
twigs moving like the limbs
of swimmers in a sapphire sea.
Thunder booms in the distance
but they go on waving,
as if the lightning and the rain
are dear friends, departing. Beams
of brilliant light make gold
the ground and polish the branches
as puddles glitter beneath blades
of grass, silently sipping.
And high above the skittering
clouds, a red-tailed hawk circles
the churchyard, its wings
cupping the sodden, cerulean air
like a parishioner reaching
for a communal cup of wine.
— Terri Kirby Erickson