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  • Claire Thompson

Claire's Poetry Corner | Mar 19


The Clearing by Jane Kenyon The dog and I push through the ring of dripping junipers to enter the open space high on the hill where I let him off the leash. He vaults, snuffling, between tufts of moss; twigs snap beneath his weight; he rolls and rubs his jowls on the aromatic earth; his pink tongue lolls. I look for sticks of proper heft to throw for him, while he sits, prim and earnest in his love, if it is love. All night a soaking rain, and now the hill exhales relief, and the fragrance of warm earth. . . . The sedges have grown an inch since yesterday, and ferns unfurled, and even if they try the lilacs by the barn can’t keep from opening today. I longed for spring’s thousand tender greens, and the white-throated sparrow’s call that borders on rudeness. Do you know— since you went away all I can do is wait for you to come back to me.

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