By: David Sapp

For a While Now

For a while now
Too long the shut-in
TV my best buddy
Doing little more than
Shuffling to fetch the mail
I get out for a bit and
I’m astonished to find
The oak tree’s girth
Is predicably thicker
The wheat has turned
Its kernels heavy and plump
And here and there
I pluck the last
Few wild raspberries
Within reach –
Well worth the trip

Changed Everything

I knew she could
Churn butter
Roll cut and dust
A heap of noodles
Hang a mountain of laundry
In the middle of winter
On clotheslines by the quince trees
Snap a mess – a bushel basket
Of green beans under the willow
In no time at all
Bake twenty pies for Grange
In an afternoon
Put up a cellar full
Of pretty Mason jars
Peaches pears cherries
Beans and beans and beans
Kill a spider without
Hesitation or trepidation
Say “bullshit” when anyone lied
Or showed signs of nonsense
According to her sisters
Win “every damn time”
At Uno Flinch Rook Euchre
I saw her drive the tractor once
When my uncles couldn’t
Come to help bale hay –
But that didn’t surprise me
It was when I saw Grandma
In her chair after a long day
Readied to read the paper
When her light winked off
And it wasn’t the bulb
“Go get the pliers” she said
And I watched as she rewired
The lamp – just like that
Her fingers swift and sure
(There were several moments
I could say changed everything)
This was another
Just like that I knew
I could do anything

As If for Emphasis

For a while there
Before she could
Form the words she
Intended or demanded
(And was maybe
Better off for it)
Before a deluge
A lifetime of words
To communicate with
The breadth of the world
Annika my granddaughter
Would on occasion
Stomp her tiny foot
Accompanied by
A laugh or squeal
As if for emphasis
To a little thought
Or out of satisfaction
In performing a task
Occupying her attention
But not I think
Out of frustration with
Her lack of eloquence
In conversation
(Thus far)
When she stomped
Her tiny foot
Her expression
Was a giddy joy
She stomped saying
All’s right with me
And all around me
For the moment

Here It Comes Again

Here it comes again
Coming at us hard again
Persistently grotesque
Caught on camera again
On the news again
(We overlook relentless
Voyeurs everywhere)
This time it’s an evangelist
His flock’s good shepherd
Spreading the good news
(Blessed are the peacemakers)
(As we forgive those who . . .
Etcetera etcetera etcetera)
The pastor crosses the street
To intentionally – viciously
Assault the man
A deeply troubled man
His neighbor
(Love thy neighbor . . .)
Who’s been harassing his people
Beats the man
Punches him kicks him
Pulls his hair
Again and again and again
Then returns to his church
And tenders a sermon and
His congregation praises him
Praises his goodness
Praises his fine example
Their hands held high
High above heads in prayer
Hosanna in the highest
Giving thanks for his
Lesson in compassion
All exquisite Christians
(For-the-love-of-Christ!)
Once again I apologize
I fail to comprehend

Another Spring

Another Spring
(After sixty-some
I don’t presume)
And here
And here
Another year
Another spring
Here and there
Are the violets
Again! Yet again!
Purpura hue
Little bruises
Near dandelion
Near emerald
Viridian and chartreuse
For me! For me!
Are once again
A comfort
Another spring

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David Sapp, writer and artist, is the recipient of Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Grants for poetry and art and is a Pushcart nominee. His poetry and prose appear widely in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and Asia. His publications include articles in the Journal of Creative Behavior; several chapbooks; a novel, Flying Over Erie; a book of poems and drawings, Drawing Nirvana; and five books of poetry and prose, Finally Chopin, Love and History, Acquaintances, A Precious Transience, and a memoir titled The Origin of Affection, winner of the Violet Reed Haas Poetry Award.