Summer/Fall 2019

 

by Michael Kocinski

 

You’ll want to know if I believe

in miracles, ghosts, and horoscopes.

I’ll tell you this: I believe in the

seasons, the colorful passage of time.

Annually, wildflowers and wild creatures

appear to come back from the dead,

though they’ve only been resting

underground, or maybe underwater;

or some birds, like turkey vultures

and robins, have flown to sunlit lands

across the sea or the great plains.

Like the soul does, when it’s done

with its body, if you want to believe

in that. When my grandmother died

I cried to see her go, but

the black-eyed Susan grows up

every year, crowding unmowed

roadside grass. She taught me

the name of those flowers and

many others, so couldn’t it be said

she annually returns, and nods her head

at me as I drive to work or home

from some misadventure?

 

Listen, disregard the careless advice

of newspaper astrologists and television

ministers. I believe everything the Earth

provides is only semi-permanent, and

put my faith in the seasons, and worship

periodically the snow and thunderstorm,

cicadas emerging, maple trees dropping

their keys in lawns, turkey vultures soaring

over stone quarries and milkweed crowding

highway embankments. Nature itself

provides daily and recurring miracles.

Let’s thank every wild god for them.

 

 

[Check out Michael Kockinski's back porch advice]