Therese Zink, M.D. a family doctor in rural Minnesota edited an anthology of prose and poetry, describing the many facets of rural medical practice in the early 21st century. I was honored to have four of my poems included. Here is one of them “September Fire,” which I also recorded on a video, right on Malnati’s meadow at the same time of year the poem was written.
Click above to play the video. To make it full screen, put your mouse over the video while it’s playing and click the little symbol on the lower right.
Stopping by Malnati’s meadow I see
he has rolled his hay into huge round bales
more than eighty scattered near and far
in the late summer sun. A red-tail hawk
claims one for a perch and waits
for his mate, while overhead a pair of kestrels
whirl their cinnamon wings in a cobalt sky.
Yesterday, my aging mother tripped and fell
over her own two feet, nothing injured
except her spirit, my father dead
almost half my life, my doctor-wife treating
kids on the other side of Lenox Mountain,
me standing here alone like the maple
Malnati left in his meadow, green leaves
catching the sun’s September fire.