Goats

“Mississippi farm yard” Kristin Cleage

“A few pigmy goats would clean

this yard right up.”

He said, looking at the

overgrown green

through the window.

Forty years ago he suggested

six milk goats, and

left town. Buckets

of milk overflowed

my kitchen table.

Next Time

“Face” Kristin Cleage

In my next life

I’ll dance like

Antonia La Singla.

My hands like

birds, my heavy

hair swinging.

 

The Sky

“Idlewild Lake House” Kristin Cleage 1990s

Floating in the lake, the

water dulling the sound

of the children,

I look at the sky,

disappearing into the

clouds. Nights in

winter, wrapped in blankets, I

sat on the deck and

watched the stars,

planes following their

paths through the sky.

I thought of dying there when the

time came, disappearing into

that wide sky.

 

 

Old Plank Road

Sketch of barn at Old Plank by Doris Graham Cleage. 1963

I remember walking

through old pastures in

knee high grass, and

the smell it made heated

by the sun. I remember the

grey green sky, the trees

and fields after a

storm. Looking out of

my window in the

spring.

But did I never

stand in the yard at

night and look

up at the

stars?

Waves

I see something in

the breaking waves,

a dog, a bird, a swimmer.

The waves curling,

crashing,

spreading over

each other. Rolling,

joining.

Waves and spray.

Blue sky.

 

Sunrise

Poem and photograph © Kristin Cleage

Rising from the

ocean, the sun

made a path

of light.

Summer Nights

Those summer nights I

sat nursing the baby,

looking down on the

street light shining green

through the leaves.