CLOUDS PART
Air moves through the arms of Umbrella Pines
before the uproar of serious rainfall.
The previously azure sky above the clock tower
shreds itself into layers of stratus that bunch up
until cirrus threads them all together
into a dark gray woven shawl. Pigeons quiet,
waiting for rain, as I walk to the top
of the village to Santa Maria Maggiore,
the place my father’s family prayed.
Thunder grumbles but no drops fall—instead
the clouds part to see what seems a blue veil.
Finding la chiesa locked I head downhill
on the narrow Via Vittorio Emanuel,
just wide enough for a grown man’s wingspan
that wraps around the village as the gift it is.
then move on to Via Roma to a meadow.
Before the sky changes its mind, I gather
red and yellow poppies and a few blue wildflowers
tie them in my hair ribbon, then place in a niche
before a still-smiling antiquated Madonna
in gratitude for my good fortune to be in Pofi
on my birthday and celebrated at the family farm
in the foothills of the Apennines
to look into the same sky as my father did,
breathe the same air, to wait for the same rain.
IN THE COMPANY OF BIRDS
My husband is a tempest in his sleep—
swings arms and legs to ward off Charlie,
sloshes through malaria-strewn jungles,
vaults from foxholes to rescue comrades
in Company A, is hit, mercifully blacks out.
My voice and touch fail to soothe, so
deepen the ravine between us.
Outdoors, in the company of birds,
I am immersed in an opus, drift
on the tune of each call and then pause
at open windows to hear chickadees
on the fence post, cardinals in the bush,
Mourning Doves in White Pines—
each lights hope, silences a wave of dread.
Still I fear the worst for my Vietnam vet.
Bio:
Mary Anna Scenga Kruch has been a career educator and now tends to poetry and photography instead of pupils. Her works reflect the natural world, ancestry, mental illness, and social justice. Mary Anna has published a textbook for writing teachers and three poetry collections. Poetry and photography appear in several journals and anthologies.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 