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Thompson, Don / Where we live: poetry
(2009)

Tumbleweeds,   pp. 30-32


Page 30

Tumbleweeds
1. Up Early, Brooding
Light comes all the way
from the sun to touch a snail
on a blade of grass.
The snail moves. The day begins.
I forget what worried me.
2. On a Cold Afternoon
Even an old dog
knows where the scant sunlight is
while I sit freezing
my knucldes to write poems.
I'll go and scratch his warm cars.
3. Last Light at Wheeler Ridge
A flock of blackbirds
dipped into the evening
brushes its dark ink
across irrigated fields.
One stroke. Two more. It is night.
4. Walking Home
Where the cold begins,
owls ask the silence its name.
Someone walking home
can think only of darkness.
He does not hear the answer.
5. Sunday Morning
Trees slip into fog
and vanish-like light falling
into a black hole,
gone forever. We sleep late,
dreaming to keep the world real.
30


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