Snowdrift
By Fan S. Ogilvie
Look at a snowdrift of spring Kousa
dogwood blossoms backed by a writer’s
shed on top of which turns a brass and
gold weathervane—the horse/fish warrior
hippocampus. It’s the writer’s story, one
never told just gestured about—timeless.
I want this picture to be seen and heard;
billions of human lenses: sighted, blind,
born, old, young and in between. Why?
You need to hear someone who out there
rests in a warm tub and looks out
at a perfect day at a perfect field of grass,
sees no war, no fires, no floods, no killing
nothing shattered, nothing fallen, just
the occasional bird of any color who flies
from branch to branch. An unlucky bee
dives into the hot water. I listen
and see the screams from the mouths
of those who at this moment are harmed
of those not going silent into this good
night, of those wronged by those who
are so wrong. I hear a body’s weak
challenge. And a spirit’s strong rebuke.
When? Will it ever be over, tribal leaders?
When will you soak in a warm tub of love,
forgive whom you have learned to hate,
allow the littlest among you to teach you
what it has taken you years to forget?
Look at grasses which return in spring.
Be fascinated, do better than you do now.
Fan Ogilvie has published two books of poems, “You” and “Easinesses Found”; several chapbooks, including “The Other Side of the Hill” and “In this Place”; and a memoir, “Knot a Life.” She lives in West Tisbury with Robin Motherwell Ogilvie, her Irish Russell terrier, and her husband Donald. She facilitates the Cleaveland House Poets poetry workshop, and reads poems regularly at the M.V. Center for Living.
Poets with a connection to Martha’s Vineyard are encouraged to submit poems to Laura Roosevelt at ldroosevelt@gmail.com.
