“pre-war, with balcony”, “Shabbona, Spring in Illinois” by Stanley Winn
pre-war, with balcony
century’s shell, open to inward swell of season’s breath— empty, once, now full of trees and seas, of plains, the bombings— these, and distant peaks: currently unknown, but fast recalled.
Shabbona, Spring in Illinois
Here— where haunted bone of forest past & ocean floor still linger in cold muck, Await the ready smells of future desert —pungent, reedy; Ice flows flew, now cold rain lashes, fit to freeze anew. These few remaining trees do tend to cluster: islands, lost in endless seas of plain— Revealing tides of distant weathers, seen at each horizon. Seated at a sawn-log table (its rusted iron limbs), Hear the teapot treachery: the stovetop whistle-fights of songbirds—wakened, early, from their shortened sleep.
Stanley Winn is an American writer who lives in Berlin, Germany. He was born in the early 1970s, and, since then, he has worked at various times as a musician, a schoolteacher, and a professor. His poems have recently appeared in RoguePoetry Review, and in The Elgin Muse Anthology of Local Verse. He is currently working on a collection of poetry, as well as his first science fiction novel. His public blog can be found at: http://shouting-underwater.tumblr.com/about.