Three Poems from Sarah L. Hill

Lost Fields

walking to the school bus
autumn and spring
the morning dew heavy
on the clover

black-eyed susans bent their heavy
necks trying to reflect back the sun
serenaded by insects
the timothy gathered weight
through summer
shorn close in waning light
cubed as sugar tanned and dry

this long walk uphill
we once ran down
seldom pausing to breathe the scents
of earth  flowers  grass
to gaze at the blue or cloud brushed sky
reflected in the distant lake

the cows and horses
once hayed for
are long since gone
and so followed the fields

we would not have believed
the neighbor's house at the roadside
would someday be missed
lost within a manse
gobbled up like a caper
forgotten with the chaff



Shadows in Flight

the crows flew
several days ago

three growing
once cramped
in an ever-shrinking nest
attempt balance
on the branches
and try to spring
to catch the air
with spreading wings and flap

one flies and leaves the others behind
they hold out another day
jealously clinging to branches
watching their sibling
swooping between wires and trees

the others flew in the morning
I watched from behind the glass pane
cheering like a proud aunt

they slept in the tree again that night
heavy wing beats have recently
announced daybreak as they attempt
to turn, to rise, to survey our lawns
in the early

when later I slip outside to walk
they greet me
all three plus one
who cackles and throws his neck forward
in my direction
which weeks earlier
may have made me jump or gasp in surprise
I bid him good morning from the ground
nod in kind
to the others

they regard me
with wary eyes
how can they know
I have watched them so long
that I count myself family



Garden Yamadanchi

black
with a spot of white
a lone dragonfly skitters
straight and directed
over the pond's surface

dancing
a ribbon of sea green
flickering with movement
the butterfly alights
on a tree and competes for the breeze

sharp
and sudden a fin slices
the water parts and speaks in ripples
a flash of orange breaks the surface

slow
as a breeze blown leaf
a turtle trolls through the pond
head peering at the world
cheek smeared with a line of rouge

shaking
with full-body purpose
birds step carefully
in   then out
feathers scattering shining droplets

black
descends upon the shore, dispersing the others
moves jauntily
tests the water
gazes sideways at this crow reflection
tastes a plant
looks about with beak agape.



Sarah L. Hill has lived and worked on three continents and currently resides in Arlington, MA.