Spring 2015
by richard Luftig
There is not much here
but a flat, firm table with no slant
or pitch to pull a body down.
This place, not a dream, exactly,
but more like a person’s set
of stories just waiting to be retold.
These towns so shy
in announcing themselves,
running along the ribbon roads.
And beyond the last homes, fields
fallow and yellow with June,
brush, wide-spaced and solitary
cropping the heads of bunchgrass.
Don’t ask for directions,
don’t admi t you’re lost.
Don’t look to the half-tones
of sky for your bearings, but wait
for this place to slow down
your heartbeats, elongate
your breaths. Wait on this land.
Illustration for the Russian Fairy Story
"Maria Morevna," by Ivan Bilibin
It will find you.
The Linnet's Wings Poetry