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Column 555

Sustenance

Intro by Ted Kooser
11.08.2015

When we’re feel­ing sor­ry for our­selves it can help to make a list of things for which we’re grate­ful. Here is a fine poem of grat­i­tude by Bar­bara Crook­er, who lives in Penn­syl­va­nia, and its images make up just such a list. This is from her book Small Rain from Pur­ple Flag Press.

Sustenance

The sky hangs up its starry pictures: a swan,
a crab, a horse. And even though you’re
three hundred miles away, I know you see
them, too. Right now, my side
of the bed is empty, a clear blue lake
of flannel. The distance yawns and stretches.
It’s hard to remember we swim in an ocean
of great love, so easy to fall into bickering
like little birds at the feeder fighting over proso
and millet, unaware of how large the bag of grain is,
a river of golden seeds, that the harvest was plentiful,
the corn is in the barn, and whenever we’re hungry,
a dipperful of just what we need will be spilled . . .

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We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2014 by Barbara Crooker, “Sustenance,” from Small Rain, (Purple Flag Press, 2014). Poem reprinted by permission of Barbara Crooker and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.