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Apology

P1030402

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Officer,
I apologize.
I know I was going slow.
I was stunned
by the morning sun
shining a perfect spotlight
on the small maple
in the clearing,
so proud in her
new red dress.
Then I caught a glimpse
of the red cap
on a woodpecker’s head
as he flew by
on undulating waves.
I followed his path
to the fallen pine
along the stream.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean
to cause an accident.
I just wanted to slow down
enough to see.
I know you’re in a hurry
to check my registration and insurance,
but now that you’re here,
if you look over there,
along that first thick branch
of the accommodating oak
you can see the woodpecker
listening for larvae
under the bark.

 

No, I didn’t really get a ticket. But I imagine I will.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Katya at Write. Sketch. Repeat.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2013, all rights reserved.

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Depression Glass

from wikipedia by lowkeyvision

from wikipedia by lowkeyvision

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lately I’ve been listening to the Poetry Foundation podcast Essential American Poets. Each episode includes a short introduction to a poet’s life and work and a few poems read by the poet. One of my favorite episodes features Ted Kooser. I love his concrete world and his midwestern sensibility. I’m from St. Louis and my father was from a small town in western Missouri. Some of Kooser’s poems seem to describe a life my father lived but didn’t talk about. I never got to use my grandmother’s depression glass, but I’m sure she had some.

I’m going to break with tradition and share the end of Kooser’s poem Depression Glass.

                                          It was hard
to hold up your end of the gossip
with your coffee cold, but it was
a special occasion, just the same,
to sit at her kitchen table
and sip the bitter percolation
of the past week’s rumors from cups
it had taken a year to collect
at the grocery, with one piece free
for each five pounds of flour.

Ted Kooser

Here’s a link to the entire poem.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Jama. I can’t wait to see what she’s serving!

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The Maple

IMG_4097

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Maple

She couldn’t bear to wear
that same green dress
another day. She was sick
of blending in, of posing
in the same plain uniform
as everyone else in the wood.
So, about a week ago, she showed up
orange. Her leaves sparkled
like the bells on a belly dancer’s belt.
She shimmied like she was on fire.
The whole place was shaking,
until yesterday, when the accordion
sneezed, the lute snapped a string
and all her sequins flopped.
Now there she is
standing naked in the cold.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2013, all rights reserved

For more Poetry Friday, visit Diane at Random Noodling.

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