May 2015
I am married to the calligrapher/henna artist, Catherine Lent. We have three daughters. As a retired teacher, I spend most of my time writing, reading, watching birds, cooking dinner, and doing dishes. I have published poetry in many literary journals such as The Literary Review, New York Quarterly, and US1. My book, Even That Indigo, was published in 2012. My poem “Red Moon,” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by US1. http://us1poets.com/archive/volume-57-2012/#Moon
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Memorial Day Harrison Street ripples red, white, and blue from the American Legion to the cemetery as the high school band plays When the Saints Come Marching In and threads a parade through town. In the backseat of a Thunderbird, our mayor, one arm slung around the slumped shoulders of a veteran in dress uniform propped beside him, smiles solemnly, waves to the crowd. Between heroic speeches and Taps, kids peck like chickens at Starbursts and plastic-wrapped lollipops firemen toss from a newly polished hook-and-ladder truck. We stand still and quiet on a green bridge over the Delaware as seven soldiers wearing white helmets and white gloves raise their rifles and fire three rounds at the clouds. Poppies explode from an open hatch in the belly of a single-engine plane soaring above the river and spiral down a staircase of air. For some of us, their descent is personal, a loved one overseas leafing through the wind, a relative's name etched in stone or the plaque under the Doughboy statue in front of the elementary school. Others are simply distracted from the daily, captivated by spectacle, or drawn in for a moment, like me, to mourn all lives cut short by war. While the airplane drones home and the river carries off another armful of flowers, we stop by the cemetery before heading back to our front porch politics, our gardens and laundry, all there is to be done. |
©2015 John Smith