by Daniel Lusk

More April cruelty:
a friend denied tenure,
aunt learns of bone cancer,
brother suddenly gone.

Budding spirea shattered,
peonies aborted,
tree limbs thrown down
on the lane.

Daffodils yesterday in riot
today hang their heads
in the snow. Yet

how generous the sunlight,
how ironic the tap
of the yellow–bellied sapsucker

and Wu Liufong alights
on the balance beam — a bird.
She has surely lied
about her age and genus.

Alone for now, I am
making soup of wherewithal.

by Daniel Lusk

Where the pond will rise
as deep snow ebbs
slow–wise,
brilliant light on oak and hemlock
shadows fading paw prints.

I could read some scripture,
find my keys,
or earn a tracking merit badge
by this religious light.

My gaze is lifted
to the crown of rock
above our house, to head and horns,
to the granite hand that cradles
this late winter moon.

Bear sleeps, woodchuck, birch,
their slow, benign sleep.
I am here with ermine,
coyote, fisher, owl,
swift, sharp–eyed, rapacious.

by Daniel Lusk

Now it is happening
in the past: my brother is gone
and I did nothing to stop him.

Rain and snowmelt
washed out the lane and I
did nothing to stop that either.

Again today, nothing shines.

by Daniel Lusk

1
Little blue finch has died.
I should have known
she’d not withstand cold
in her cage alone.

I buried her under the apple tree
by her mate. And then,
to linger awhile,
I pruned the tree for winter.

2
When light fails, I potter
out of doors. Pry rocks from the rubble
churned up from the pond
by the backhoe last summer,
flat rocks to make a wall

for snakes, for snow to hide.

3
Hollowness of the road underfoot
resounds in the hollow air.

Night draws shadows upward
from the ground.
Snow carrying starlight down.

4
Let’s call the ermine
crossing the deck to lie
by the house Snow White.

Remember the good white duck
that carried Gretel and Hansel
safely over the water.
5
Confined to books and classroom,
these young ones stretch
ripening bodies
under the gaze of their teacher.
They don’t mean anything by it.