Barbara Crooker there will be sun, scalloped by clouds, ushered in by a waterfall of birdsong. It will be a temperate seventy-five, low humidity. For twenty-four hours, all politicians will be silent. Reality programs will vanish from TV, replaced by the “snow” that used to decorate our screens when reception wasn’t working. Soldiers will toss …
Barbara Crooker – Poem With An Embedded Line By Susan Cohen
Barbara Crooker When the evening newscast leads to despair, when my Facebook feed raises my blood pressure, when I can't listen to NPR anymore, I turn to the sky, blooming like chicory, its dearth of clouds, its vast blue endlessness. The trees are turning copper, gold, bronze, fired by the October sun, and the bees …
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Barbara Crooker – Listen
Barbara Crooker I want to tell you something. This morning is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris, peony, rose, opens its mouth, rejoicing. I want to say, wake up, open your eyes, there’s a snow-covered road ahead, a field of blankness, a sheet of paper, an empty screen. Even the smallest insects …
