These Have Been Impossible Seasons/ poem by Bruce Weber

These Have Been Impossible Seasons
He said
Lighting a match
On the side of the barn
Then watching it flitter in the wind and go out.

These impossible seasons
Have tied up your mother’s mind in sailor’s knots
Have scurried for shelter in god’s humble house
Have delivered bread when death stood by the door.

These have been impossible seasons
He said
Fingering through memories of his daughter’s smile
The moment she surrendered to father time
Her face covered with grandmother’s blue handkerchief.
Someday everything will be clear as old man Sumner’s pond
And truth will tickle us under the arms
He said
Biting into a crab apple and spitting it out
Slamming a fist against the stomach of a mighty oak.

These have been impossible seasons
He said
Twisting a stick in the earth	
Laughing as loud as a torrent of hail
Tapping the length of tobacco and paper
Against the barn door for luck.

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Bruce Weber is a poet and historian of American art. He is the author of six books of poetry. The most recent is There Are Too Many Words in My House (Rogues Scholars Press, 2019). He and his wife Joanne curate the monthly Tuesday evening multidisciplinary series Dialogues for the Ear & Eye at the 9W Diner in Saugerties. Bruce also produces the Hudson Valley New Year's Day Spoken Word/Performance Extravaganza.