Quick. Open the door. There—in the east—
across the tired grass with its small continents of unmelted snow,
beyond the fence your neighbor built (spoiling late summer evenings
with 70s hard rock and cursing),
on the other side of the lead work tracery of branches—
the sky is pink this morning—an astounding paintbrush pink
that Georgia O’Keefe would have followed out of the desert,
an opera pink—the flush across the top of the soprano’s breasts.
And above the pink a blue purer than birth—
that moment of the healthy cry, nothing but hope and possibility.
The blue of standing in a rainstorm, wet denim loving your skin,
the blue of creaking sails nuzzling the horizon, porpoise wheels turning.
Today will not bring rain or wind or snow, but sun
and happiness and insanity and desire—a whole mute sky of it.
Look—a pair of cardinals is out there on a branch calling—come
~ Pat Daneman
Pat Daneman has lived in Lenexa, Kansas since 1986. Recent work appears in Escape Into Life, The Moon City Review, I-70 Review, Bellevue Poetry Review, and The Comstock Review. Her chapbook, Where the World Begins, was published in 2015 by Finishing Line Press.
Maril Crabtree spent her childhood in Memphis and grew up in New Orleans, but married a Kansas boy five decades ago and considers herself a full-bred Kansan by now. She writes poetry and creative nonfiction and her poems have appeared in I-70 Review, DMQ Review, Spank the Carp, and others. Her latest chapbook is Tying the Light (2014); some of her poems can be seen at www.marilcrabtree.com