Poetry Friday

It's Friday again. It continues to amaze me both how quickly Friday rolls around and how slowly. But I am also amazed easily and find wonder in the little things of life. Here is a poem that resonated with me, again from "To Sing Along the Way: Minnesota women poets from Pre-Territorial days to the present." edited by Joyce Sutphen, Thom Tammaro & Connie Wanek.

The Scholar in the Playroom

My father's head was propped up in his hands.
Around him chaos swirled; the cello played
off-key in practice, someone vacuumed sand
we tracked in from the beach. I was amazed

that he could concentrate through all of this,
scoring Shakespeare's words with yellow pen
and calmly reading as I wrestled with Fergus
while the youngest blundered through the den.

For years I've carried my father's image around,
the flame in the storm who loved the crazy wind
his children were despite the din of sound
he sometimes wished he could rescind.

He proved the ivory tower a myth, this anti-Lear,
who kept his children, his Cordelias near.

by Ethna McKieran (b. 1951)

Next week we'll begin a look at another new regional poetry book. So come back again.