graphics mode c r o s s X c o n n e c t previous | next

| main page
| issue contents
| contributors
| e-mail us
   p e r s p e c t i v e,    p o w e l l    v a l l e y
from Ceremony of Names

--- S U E   S C A L F

Next to a red barn waves
a field of cornflowers: bits
of sky on stems.  Beyond, there
is a silo, and farther,
in a shallow swale, a spire,
delicate and white above red brick.
Then, fold-on-fold of blue,
the Cumberlands rise, cloud-crowned,
at the gap where Boone opened the wilderness
Even then cornflowers, blue as faded denim,
blew in the wind sweeping down the mountains;
even then clouds dipped at twilight
and slipped pale fingers into the hollows,
cool and damp as graves of pioneers.

But that was then. Now my heart is a beak sharpened on granite. In a hundred years these mountains will lift their heads and other eyes observe blackbirds sleek as pokeberries in summer rain.

© crossconnect 1995-1998 |
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania kelly writers house |