Date: 3/8/17 12:43 pm From: K. Hilary Ford <khilaryf32...> Subject: [wisb] Fwd: American Life in Poetry 624
We have driven back from the south occasionally and stopped to see the cranes early in the spring - such a wonderful sight, and here it is in poetry. Enjoy it everyone! Hilary Ford ---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: <alp...> <alp...> Date: Mon, Mar 6, 2017 at 10:00 AM Subject: American Life in Poetry 624 To: "K. Hilary Frod" <khilaryf32...>
Charles Peek is a Nebraska poet who lives near that section of the Platte River where early each year hundreds of thousands of sandhill cranes pause in their migration to nourish themselves for the long flight north. There have been many poems written about the cranes, but this one reaches a little further into our lives. Peek's recent collection of poems is *Breezes on their Way to Being Winds*, from Finishing Line Press.
*Unlike objects, two stories can occupy the same space*
Out along the last curve in the brick walk the grass has begun to green, with the freezing cold and coming snow its certain fate.
The cranes make the same mistake, fields of red capped heads attest their arrival just before the worst blizzard of winter makes it impossible to tell the field from the river.
And we, too, have known these mortal mishaps, miscalculated our time, found ourselves out of step, arriving too early, staying on too late, misjudging the nearness, the vengeance of the storm.
The cranes, the grass, they tell us: this can go on for millions of years.
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