—after Emily Dickinson
At the edge of a furrowed field, everything
turning over beneath us, how it sways
atop the tallest redwood without falling,
like a leaf, stretching just a few inches closer
to firmament. There’s a certain slant of light
and a wind that oppresses. Still, this slender
body tapers off into Cooper’s hawk and together
they lean into another incoming storm.
When it comes, the landscape listens, hunkers down.
Leaves curl deep into themselves. Everything calls
their shadows in like mothers before dinner.
Feathers cathedral together for warmth. Balance.
It doesn’t matter where the meanings are
when we hold each other this close. Even after
bird separates from tree and both shake out the wind
like a cotton table cloth. And the field quiets.
And the sky remains just slightly out of reach.
And our shadows, returning, hold their breath.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 1.
John Schneider’s debut poetry collection, Swallowing the Light, (2022) is Pinnacle Book Achievement Poetry Best Book winner 2023, New York City Big Book Award Distinguished Favorite for Poetry in 2023, International Book Awards Poetry 2023 and nominated for the Hoffer Award. His non-fiction book, Dreaming and Being Dreamt, was published by Routledge in 2023. His poetry is a finalist in Atlanta Review’s 2023 International Poetry Competition. He is also a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. He resides in Berkeley, California.
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