"Indiangrass" by Sharon Erby

Faculty /Staff Winner

“Indiangrass”

by Sharon Erby

I.
 

The goat we saw in the high pale field

was not a goat but instead a young

albino deer who (we learned later)

hankered for the tender parts

of the neighbor’s smooth azalea.

 

We entered a pact with all concerned

to keep it quiet 

and our Indiangrass did its part

to swallow the fellow up and save it

from random (and deliberate)

blasts of lead from steel.
 

II.
 

I climbed past that same high field

across many seasons

in shoes not meant for hiking

wearing clothes that did not fit

to reach a plateau where

I could rest in nature’s arms.
 

And the burden of my shadow     

fell away

replaced by a new self 

seen in a flowing street of sparkle

where earth and sky

animal and human 

were all luminous.
 

III.
 

Look there! you said

after whisking me out,

wind washing us taking our breath from us

to glimpse again the white wonder,

this time closer  leggier  leaping.
 

In winter, I lobbed logs

into the outside fire box and

wondered how many colors of flame

we must endure to purify

our selves into white deer.

IV.

I cannot claim Teresa's castle
cathedrals constrain me  

my eyes deceive me  

and I have no power
to take breath away.
 

Please say you did not hear
any of this from me. Let me keep
these small surprises of self
quiet, safe, in Indiangrass.