Poems from this Month

I write new poems each month for my poetry blog First Verse. I include an image by my friend Susan Rouse with each poem.

During these last four weeks, the impetus for each of the poems came from an outside text.

Midnight Psalm runs real life experiences through the whimsical blender of alphabetical order, as many of the Psalms do in Hebrew, and as my drama students used to do in our favorite warm-up. I also quote one of my favorite prayers from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. The end was a pleasant surprise to me.

Midnight Psalm

Awake in bed while others sleep, I
Bless you others who remain awake:
Clerk, behind glass 'til dawn for my convenience;
DVMs who nursed my dog through his worst night;
EMTs who kept me talking in the dark while
Firefighters sliced my car apart;
Ghanaian on night shift alone among towers of tires, and
Hero who towed my wreck through a chilly drizzle --
I'd had coffee and dessert at the end of my day
Just as, saving me, you both had started yours;
Kid who slept on the tile of an empty diner, who
Leapt up, straightening his apron to make my omelet;
Mom's attendants hoisting her back into bed while the
Nurse with her honeyed accent phoned, "She's all right";
Operator, who sighed before sunrise and dispatched a
Plumber to stanch the gusher in my lawn;
Quellers of cranks like me in the ER at midnight;
Railroad engines' whistles faint through the window,
Sirens' wails,
Trucks' rattles and growls -- sounds of you
Urgent drivers hurtling miles away while I lie idly
Venerating alphabetically you
Who work or watch or weep this night:
Exemplars of service: by my memories
You all bless me with another gift -- of
Z Z Z

Alternate Route combined a prayer attributed to St. Francis with a real-life experience (one familiar to anyone in the Atlanta area) and the story of Nick that I'd just heard from someone who knew him.

Seventy mph with windows open
as friendly NPR reported hope
in Nick -- on death row over thirty years,
a mediator, nurse to disabled prisoners --
while from my left the deep blue dome of night
was closing over orange sunset to my right,
I topped a ridge and in the instant slammed
my brakes. Six lanes of blinking red were jammed

as far as I could see. No backing out; too late
to ask my phone to find an alternate.
Between "1999" from a neighboring Mustang
and a Silverado's country twang,
I heard from Nick: This is it. My life. This place.
I choose to be an instrument of peace.
The Mustang wanted to cut. I gave him room.
He smiled, thumb up, eased in, and raised the volume.

Ode to Paul is a flat-out parody of Hymn 376 in the Episcopal Hymnal of 1982, music by Beethoven, words by Henry Van Dyke. Paul Kelley served our church as interim organist/choir director during these lean years of the pandemic. At the end of that interim period this week, the choir and congregation sang these words to him:

Grateful, grateful, we salute thee
Maestro Kelley known as "Paul."

Though the hours did not suit thee,
still you gave this job your all.

During COVID, you were devoted,
playing for priests online alone.

Now, at last, you've been demoted
to a humble baritone.

A preacher recited other words by Henry Van Dyke at a memorial service this week, about how the sailboat disappearing on our horizon is appearing to those on the other side -- just the right sentiment for that time and place.