- Sholey
- by M. A.
Griffiths
Sholey brings the summer in a shiny old tin
bucket
every year. He walks head high across the
mountains
carrying the flowers. In the brim of his
wide hat
nestle songbird eggs in pastel clutches.
Sholey
holds the rainbow in one iris, in the other
is a pool
of music for the crickets and the
treefrogs, for
all the strange small creatures. Sholey is
the father
and the mother, gardener and guardian.
Sholey waits and watches, all the world his
ward.
When the season withers and cloud blue sky
is widowed,
Sholey is a sexton, who waits, bare head
bowed
in shadow, till he feels earth pulling at
her moorings,
then he rises,and polishes his pail,
brushes clean
his felt fedora, pulls on his walking far
boots and strides out
to the periwinkle foothills, lungs full of
tomorrow,
hullooing lanky blessings to the bright
beloved stars.
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