David Helvarg 9:30 a.m., Dec. 10
- Alfred Nicol
Three Poems by Alfred Nicol
Recipient of 2004 Richard Wilbur Award for his first collection of poetry
- Here’s Rocco now, sprawling across the keys;
- whatever I may try to write,
- he’s there in black and white,
- purring, rolling on his back to bite
- my fingers if he disagrees,
- minding my q’s and p’s.
- Well, I require constant stroking too.
- And maybe I get in the way.
- I like for you to say
- I’m clever, good. And feed me twice a day.
- There’s nothing I would rather do
- than rub up next to you
- and feel that spark of electricity
- leap at the touch, connecting you to me.
- Restless, off center, again, so often now it seems
- a kind of starting point, familiar in its way,
- a place I might come back to, on my own, could be
- I shouldn’t try to shake this, haven’t lost my focus,
- only that another has developed and
- there’s no one center now, I’m someone else as well,
- this one and that one both, no need to come around
- We walked in light and shade
- Along the lichened wall,
- No task at hand
- And nothing planned.
- The poplar branches swayed.
- And Finlay chased his ball.
- And something made us smile,
- And something else, again.
- Nothing less
- Than happiness,
- And good to last awhile.
- Enough to last till when…
- This simple summer day
- Of not too much to do
- May be the one
- We look back on
- When years have swirled away
- And days like these are few.
More from SDReader
- Three Poems by Alfred Nicol — Dec. 30, 2015