Suburban Vespers
When flagstones’ stored heat
on the soles of your feet seems
enough, when rounding
the corner of the house
to see your cats restless in the Indian Summer
night disappearing in the glow
of the street lamp makes
you think of baked bread,
at these moments you know that no
sycamore’s leaves will fail to call
to you in their drift from the tree,
no sprinkler head forget its chant,
no lime neglect its ripening,
nor fountain-rippled, garden pond lose
ardor for the frogs and minnows
harbored in its waters. The sundial
is shadowed, useless. Night things
are pulsing with their vows. Even
the coyote crossing
the greenbelt by the swimming pool—
its long, loping gait.
Lucia Galloway (website) has published two poetry collections, Venus and Other Losses (Plain View, 2010) and Playing Outside (Finishing Line, 2005). She reads, writes, and sorts her laundry at home in suburban Los Angeles, where she also co-hosts Poetry in Claremont, Fourth Sundays, a reading series. Find her most recent poems at The Dirty Napkin, The Innisfree Poetry Journal and The Comstock Review.
