there are the stars
and the sickle stare
of the moon
there are the frogs
dancing in the joy
of the ditch and the crickets
serenading everything
there are the trees
and the huge shadow
of the wind whispering
the old hymns of my childhood
and of course, there are the stars again.
winking at me like a curious woman.
i am learning to breathe.
From A Jury of Trees (Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingüe and Letras Latinas, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Andrés Montoya. Used with the permission of Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingüe.
This painting of a barn and barnyard near sundown May be enough to suggest we don’t have to turn From the visible world to the invisible In order to grasp the truth of things. We don’t always have to distrust appearances. Not if we’re patient. Not if we’re willing To wait for the sun to reach the angle When whatever it touches, however retiring, Feels invited to step forward Into a moment that might seem to us Familiar if we gave ourselves more often To the task of witnessing. Now to witness A barn and barnyard on a day of rest When the usual veil of dust and smoke Is lifted a moment and things appear To resemble closely what in fact they are.
From Night School by Carl Dennis, published by Penguin Poets, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2018 by Carl Dennis. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 26, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.