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Guest Poet Nancy M. Hill

A Trickster's Sky


the inconsolable sky squeezes,

contracts around me like a mother's laboured pain

pressing inward its raw, damp fear;


nothing more than mist, really,

gathers on a tin roof,

trickling soundlessly earthward. . .

its voiceless authority

draws all warmth from within me.




rise unbidden from my soul's foundation. . .

tears fall thicker than the rain mistings.

I ache

for the want of you.

And the Universe is still ever the Trickster's companion

. . . even Lazarus laughs

July, 2001

Nancy M. Hill's Questions:

1. Are the allusions in the last two lines ambiguous so as not to be understood?

2. Do I establish the mood of loss?

3. Any general comments or feedback on the form are welcomed.

[his fields lie fallow]

His fields lie fallow

no clod upturned to breathe

spring's incarnation through fervent soil

grains of life.

Agéd tractor rusted by

rests with engine dormant

kept company with dusty, unsharpened tools


patient for the return.


tended, trained

range to feral climes,


Dented old truck

engraved by hewn boughs,

a rake flung hastily,

smells rich of loamy compost.


furling flag half-masted

over hummocks

effusive with neglect,



His fields lie fallow,


mid-season for the return.

Even so,

how do you tell a clod of earth

or knitted vines

the guardian too

lies fallow in the field.

July, 2001

Nancy M. Hill's Questions:

1. Is the tone reverent for the death I am remembering?

2. Is the imagery clear to you?

3. How do the first and last of the poem affect you?

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