by Mark Fischweicher
we can walk on the trail
as it runs by the brook
where a heron we’ve seen seems
a statue of sorts
still as stone
till it catches the fish
in one gulp
and down where the tracks still run
where we board the train
going down to the city
there’s this one single woman
who walks out
on her lawn
across from the station
who stands with her hands, statuesque,
deftly stretched
there before her
balletically smoking her one cigarette
not to fill up the house with her ash
I suspect
these are the things that we look for in life
the things that return
even memories
and poems
Mark Fischweicher has been involved with poetry all his life. As an elementary, junior high school, high school and adult educator he has published poems at all those levels and has taught courses on the Beats, the Black Mountain Poets, Ezra Pound, and The New York School of Poets.