American Life in Poetry: ‘Sustenance’

When we’re feeling sorry for ourselves it can help to make a list of things for which we’re grateful. Here is a fine poem of gratitude by Barbara Crooker, who lives in Pennsylvania, and its images make up just such a list. This is from her book “Small Rain” from Purple Flag Press.

Sustenance

The sky hangs up its starry pictures: a swan,

a crab, a horse. And even though you’re

three hundred miles away, I know you see

them, too. Right now, my side

of the bed is empty, a clear blue lake

of flannel. The distance yawns and stretches.

It’s hard to remember we swim in an ocean

of great love, so easy to fall into bickering

like little birds at the feeder fighting over proso

and millet, unaware of how large the bag of grain is,

a river of golden seeds, that the harvest was plentiful,

the corn is in the barn, and whenever we’re hungry,

a dipperful of just what we need will be spilled …

Poem copyright 2014 by Barbara Crooker from “Small Rain” (Purple Flag Press, 2014) and reprinted by permission of the author and publisher. American Life in Poetry is supported by the Poetry Foundation and the English department at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. We do not accept unsolicited submissions.