IN AND OUT OF NARROW CLOUDS
Jean Jorgensen
Elizabeth St Jacques

her voice and the harp the night winds wailing
past the moon the widow's gaze
jets roll in unison the military air show
in Crackerjacks a medal paperthin
her mother's old rings newly mounted and cleaned
she plays house all alone
but soon the swallows and our harvests of dry it
raindrops from every leafbud
Easter morning: missal pages turn on cue
down the street . . . a wild jackrabbit
on their daily walk she's behind again
a brass band leads the parade
from the new nest a string of paper wasp
the hot air balloon drifts free
between wilted marigolds the spider's web
grandma spins flax into yarn
and at the hearth grandpa tells a whopper
all day spent ice fishing
a dip in the ocean on New Year's Day
goosebumps and Edgar Allan Poe
divine decadence . . . homemade ice cream
in snowmelt half a poem
first to bloom ... lush smell of lilacs
baby-powder fresh her new son
here in the woods half hidden ... a deer and her fawn
in and out of narrow clouds the red kite
the bruises on her face she cannot camouflage
a closet door slams suddenly
stored in the root cellar . . . the plenty of autumn
thumbing through old photographs
fallen leaves on the step and seed catalogues
en pointe . . . the young ballerina
trails of Amish wagonwheels after heavy rain
musty smell of the hermit's trunk
cacti blossoms close for the night ... a full moon glistens
in evening light the sun-catcher