Black Poem by Jenny Kalahar

Clotheslines in a deserted back yard
black in a nearly solid
dipping row
black with birds
crows and grackles and passerines
who all gently sway as nearly one
contemplating flight
keeping one shiny eye on
black storm clouds
one eye to the
black cat slinking closer
low with deathly
black death plans

Ants on a mission
some home, some leaving
black moving dots on a mission,
working the morning shift, and under orders
keeping production on schedule, flowing
tugging and toting
the leafy, the dead
their blackness
sameness
tirelessness a duty

Nature's use of blackness
from the rich, moist soil
to newborn calfskin gleam
from glub and gush of oil
to the blackest moonless night
cavedark echoes of screeching batcalls
mountain shadows chilled with bluesnow
Black and beautiful eyes of susans
daisies, purpleblack grapes
and luscious plums

Nature's use of blackness only falters
when her summer wanes and summer black things
leave or die or hibernate
and I miss them then, but look for winter's black:
ruffling birds on snowy branches
black on grey on white
and then I miss her blackness less