Heritage

by R.T. Castleberry / May 8th, 2022

The wind dies. Pines spike
cloud bands of white, deep azure blue.
Twilight gazing the hill’s horizon,
I slow my walking, consider
tracts of winter-lit forest,
unsettled drifts of dry leaves, randomness
of bird calls lacing phone line and fence.
I long for September rebirth,
hiker’s call to a border collie.
I snap a cigarette pack
against my palm, light a Viceroy.
Smoke lifts, I watch
across the waste of heritage land
as a burn-off shears a distant valley.
Past the stake of a Sale sign,
a realtor sits patiently, covetous
with contract and a certified check.

R.T. Castleberry, a Pushcart Prize nominee, has work in Dissident Voice, Caveat Lector, San Pedro River Review, Glassworks Magazine, Silk Road and Gyroscope Review. Internationally, he's had poetry published in Canada, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Portugal, the Philippines, India and Antarctica. His poetry has appeared in the anthologies: You Can Hear the Ocean: An Anthology of Classic and Current Poetry, TimeSlice, The Weight of Addition, and Level Land: Poetry For and About the I35 Corridor. Read other articles by R.T..

This article was posted on Sunday, May 8th, 2022 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.