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Landscape of Ordinary Things - Poem
Literary Review, Spring, 2001 by Eileen Berry
The view from our window is still the same, Gregsons' farm: the son has it now. Landscape littered with things discarded, wooden ladder up to an empty hayloft, eyes ascend to seagulls perched, pigeons squatting on a blue slate roof, gable end, and, down below, vacant pigsties, bricks fallen in grass, where old apple trees lean into each other, twisted grey branches, the colour of washing-line rope. Silvery-sage remnants of an orchard and apples blighted, small, hard, green, insect-bitten, wormed and tart, bunched among dry, papery leaves. An iron plough, rusting by the side of the shed, has a flat hollow-shaped seat. Gouged with holes, it felt hard, cold on our skin through thin summer frocks: now it lies deep in wild grass, ferns and stinging nettles, iron teeth of the harrow poking out. The scythe's curved blade has slid against a tipped-over bucket of chickenfeed, moldy, smelling of damp earth like the outhouses with their rotted wooden seats.
Eileen Berry's poems have appeared in several journals, and she was a Pushcart Prize nominee in 1998
COPYRIGHT 2001 Fairleigh Dickinson University
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group