Friday, December 6, 2019

by Fran Blake Smith

Apologies to Fran and all from the blog-keeper, who just discovered this poem that had been left as an unpublished draft, for two years!





“The place I live in is called the Northeast Kingdom.”
(author's note, Mark T. Creaven, a life lived backwards)


Well, where’s the king?
And does he reside with royal entourage
On a hardscrabble hill
Almost too rocky to farm?

What has this word “kingdom” to do with wealth?
And why is wealth reckoned in currency, not poetry?

Why indeed when on this Fall mornings
Kings and queens can look out the kitchen door
To see gossamer rising from emerald fields
And spot the early-turning leaves like jewels
Sprinkled by nature’s lavish hand around their property?

Their property.
Something to be said for that.
Our collective property, we Royals all:
Our Northeast Kingdom.



Fran Blake Smith
Wednesday Poets


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