A Far Small Wood [Spy Wednesday]

This black-green vale of knotted pine,
Now having found their lonely place
And here below the windy line
They make a herded, blustered sign
Against the rocky face.

They are wearied but quite unseen
From over the rolling hill;
So that only the collected crows are keen
To what the little wood will glean
Once the foxes leave their kill
Among the dry, brown straw
Where the scavengers wander
And the insects crawl.
Walking here I found a weathered doll
And ponder
Its lost child
Forgotten now, somewhere amidst the world
Of constant codes and numbers dialed
And countless dangers in closets piled
Beneath these dark crows now unfurled
And swirled into the air
To find yet another patch of trees
In shadows made of sunny glare
And windblown strands of golden hair
And men set down upon their knees.

~Jef Powers

German Photograph [Spy Wednesday]

The lime-green rapeseed
Un-pressed and swollen waits
With oil upon the harvest and
They were long ago and unknown to me
Now; but for this captured field
Of digital lime-green illumination

To reveal our eye on unfamiliar places
And share our visions with one another
Since if our communal memories met together
For a moment alone in a room the floor would
Bow for all the mendacity and homesickness.
Truth is thick with heavy liquid called tears
Like the oil of Canola
Seeds poured down on my face.

     ~ Jef Powers

The Mailbox at Night

There is not a creature

That pushes the stars

But only a length of forest breathe

At night when none is watching

The little quiet lights, spiraling

Neither modest or calm

But infernos that make us as nothing

And a roaring

From this distance though

There’s nothing to it

It’s not a concern

I’ll walk back to the glow at the kitchen door

All this light

It burns a hole in my coat

It invites the darkness

Back to the house

Thankfully it knows nothing of us

And for this disinterest

I’m utterly grateful

~Jef Powers