National Poetry Month–Collage


Rare occurrences these images of faith
yet I place them like concrete statues in a garden:
a pink rose on a blacktop highway,
blueberries in the sky above
a green grassy field, a window frame opening
the bark of a tree, a steeple peeking
out of a forest mist.

God, why have I placed this steeple
in this piece of art? When I am more drawn
by the post-fence running next to the blacktop,
and a triangular image of a wrinkled old
man in a 1930s pickup.
That man has broken
horses. He passed
my pink rose on the highway.

Roses, I’ve let them roam
untamed. Like my children,
I attempted to protect by trimming
around delicate petals
with tiny scissors. Wild,
they curled over the fence,
escaped my touch.

A window frames a waterfall
I ponder the course of this river
and what it has crushed.
The pebbles are older than Christ.

I fear the icy run-off of winter.

If I set my children adrift in reeds
turtles might snap my offerings to pieces.

If I set my children on the wing
will they pluck fruit from the sky?

Can sunflowers pop through snow banks
and appear natural?

Why should I ask?
You’ve never answered with the miraculous before.

~poem copyright Kim Nixon


About kimnixon

Upper Peninsula Michigan Artist and Writer

Posted on April 11, 2009, in Ordinary Day and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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