Author's Note: Here’s a poem for November, which seems to me to be an elegiac time of the year.
The Way a Song Lingers Long After the Bird Is Gone
in memory of Geri Rosenzweig Yesterday, an email telling me she’s gone, as suddenly as the shadow of a sharpshin crossing the lawn. In her last poem she wrote about the hedgerows behind the family home in Ireland, the way the shadows fell at four o’clock, a cup of tea. The sound of a linnet twittering in the holly.
from Some Glad Morning (Pitt Poetry Series, University of Pittsburgh Poetry Press)
©2022 Barbara Crooker
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