National Poetry Month: Day Six

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Such a beautiful sight

Green is never as green as in the strange light after an April storm and I have 2,456 steps to go so I leave the sounds of the baseball game on the TV and step out the door.

There’s a picture-perfect sunset against the stacks of the power plant at the end of 2nd St and it’s like all the images in Sunday school as a kid of God, sunlight breaking through clouds.

But then at the corner, a guy with long hair yells at me from across the street,“Where’s Telegraph Hill?” And I point toward the hill in the distance.

“No, where’s the end of Telegraph Hill?” he asks.“Where’s 3rd St.?”

“Across Main St.” And I point north and he heads toward the river which is the wrong direction and now the picture of the sunset is gone.

But then a robin lands on the sidewalk and yells at me and down at the river there’s a family, a woman in a long skirt and a girl in tight jeans and high heels with a range of boys at different heights and the woman is speaking into her cell phone in a language I don’t recognize as one of the boys points to a bucket on the river shore. “That’s someone’s bucket,” he says.

At the same spot a woman with big hair sits in her mini-van with the windows down and the radio turned up to Kenny Loggins—“Sweet love’s showin’ us a heavenly light / Never seen such a beautiful sight.”

And the petals from the cherry tree are scattered on the sidewalk and the grass is so green. Do you see? Are you looking?

And this is what life is like on a Wednesday night after a storm in a small town in Indiana.

 

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