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Nature Poem


Once,
When I lived
In Virginia,


My upstairs neighbor asked
If, at the reading
I was to give


Would any
Of my new poems
Include a bit
Of the surrounding
Landscape,


And I said to her
No, I don't wirte
About that, but,


This was
A false statement.
I could have told her
Behind a certain house
In Illinois,


Is the beginnings
Of a prairie.
I loved
The subtle turnings
Of the word
Brown,


I loved
What a
Clumsy movement
Could toss up:
Feathers,
Survival tactics,


Dust
Slanted by
A mid-November's
Light.


And I could have spoken
On behalf of
The New York
Roof gardens in May:
Small tufts
Of Spring.


Near-secret outposts
Tucked within
A city's
Agenda.


I can't tell you why
Certain things make me
Hold my tongue.


I think the conversation
Dwindled
At that point.
Nervous laughter,
Then she walked
Upstairs.


Why wouldn't a poet
Want to broadcast
Such lush noise?
It was spring
In Virginia,
That particular year
A lovely meter.


It was senseless,
And when she missed
The reading,
Didn't I pluck
A stingy blossom?

Written by Cornelius Eady

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