“Crazy Happenstance Gifts of the Sky” by Ronda Piszk Broatch
Crazy Happenstance Gifts of the Sky
I want to know just what makes the dead
so joyful. What falls from the beak, the bed
of the pickup truck on a midnight road, who
stashed the fawn deep in a hay bale?
I want a reckless careless blessing,
one with messy hair, and no artificial
highlights. Like how the crow, high wired,
hides in the sun, watching me plant
marigolds around an unknown poet’s
gravestone. I ask her,What final touch?
What is this work of mine? The crow’s reply,
here is an earring, here is a rusty hinge.
We were silent a long while, wondering,
what is this joy, anyway?
Photo Credit: Shayne Schultz