Small faces peeking
over the fence, mask
of a raccoon, furtive
glance of a squirrel
The gaze of a deer,
pale eye of a fish, sky-
born gleam of a hawk,
even a possum’s glare
These are the faces
that adorn my childhood,
my eyes returning
all those countless looks.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have recently appeared at Cacti Fur and Strange Poetry. DeHart blogs at jddehartfeaturepoems.blogspot.com.
Pollen shaken
into the air greets my
nostalgic nose.
What summer must have been
twenty years ago.
The haybalers are somewhere,
I hear them in the distance,
churning. But the sound
of birds outweighs them.
There will be no more rumble
when they are finished, left
with the quiet, I will only
sneeze in honor
of the child I used to be.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have recently appeared at Cacti Fur and Strange Poetry. DeHart blogs at jddehartfeaturepoems.blogspot.com.
Foxglove Journal 