Treasure Island

r james sterzinger

(9-11-56 / midwest)

after emily bronte


sitting in my back yard
on a beautiful
early november day
watching the wind blow
the falling leaves
from the trees:
yellow,
all over my damned
yard.

i realized
i was dead already.
dead as a stone,
not a soul around
just hanging there
waiting for god
to make her next move.

that's about the size of it
my kids have all gone away
for the most part.
my wife looks at me
if i am something
the dog left behind.

even if i am not dead
either god or her
or both
will get me in the end.

now as the nights
get colder
and shorter
and darker
it will be harder to hang on

but

on this sunny november day
i am still comfortable with being alive,
understanding this moment of grace.

Submitted: Monday, November 03, 2008
Edited: Tuesday, November 04, 2008

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Comments about this poem (after emily bronte by r james sterzinger )

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  • Diana Van Den Berg (2/7/2009 12:27:00 AM)

    There are so many moments of grace like this. We just have to recognise them. I am happy that you recognised that one. (Report) Reply

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