by Jim Moore (from the Academy of American Poets)
Did I forget to look at the sky this morning
when I first woke up? Did I miss the willow tree?
The white gravel road that goes up from the cemetery,
but to where? And the abandoned house on the hill,
did it get
even a moment? Did I notice the small clouds so slowly
moving away? And did I think of the right hand
of God? What if it is a slow cloud descending
on earth as rain? As snow? As shade? Don’t you think
I should move on to the mop? How it just sits there,
unused? And the stolen rose on its stem?
Why would I write a poem without one? (To read more, visit here.)
Jim Moore is the author of six collections of poetry including Invisible Strings (Graywolf Press, 2011).