This month in poetry: To drive the fields of heaven

‏I was driving through the fields of Heaven when I realized I was still on Earth,
because Earth was all I had ever known of Heaven and no other place would do
for living forever.

“I can’t say I don’t look forward to this once-/a-year. When I’ll bump into you, elbow one/of my neighbors. By the history table.”

Former Middlebury resident Susan Jefts has published a new book of poetry, “Breathing Lessons,” put out by Shanti Arts.

No one could say who they were./ The men at the perimeter./ Why they appeared in uniforms./ Seemed to be wearing badges/ stitched into their shirts./ At this distance five-pointed stars.

“The roof has come off the church/ and rain is falling in the baptistry.”

As the title implies, the featured collection gives readers Margolis’s understanding of what it means to be happy. However, by no means should this indicate that every single poem will bring a smile to your face.

In the scope of her book, Kunin is not simply taking us on a journey of language, but holds our hand as we crawl into a soft, cushioned space of the poet’s authenticity and vulnerability.

Gratitude to all of you for checking-in./ Calling me in the middle of the night,/ to see if I’m not trying to get some sleep,/ sleeping on my roof. The water’s that high/ in some places in my brave state/ of Vermont. Where the rivulets rise…

Most of the time the dark waters will rise,/ then fall into sun and birdsong, everything/ glistening, vivid as broken glass in fresh mud…

Swooping down, a righteous vulture/ Points his talons at “Cancel Culture”/ Enough! he squawks, leave the pastard be/ Let wrongs live on in history…

The Rose of Sharon/ and the Trumpet Vine/ are always the last to leaf out./ Everything else is green —/ has been since the end of April.

For Peter Lebenbaum and his long service with the Counseling Service of Addison County.

I was going to explain why I’m repelled by children/ who have been taught to say all the right things/ about Edward Hopper’s night café—some paintings/ need to be earned and this is one of them— but here,/ instead, are three stanzas about Iceland.

It was twilight all day./ Sometimes the smallest things weigh us down,/ small stones that we can’t help/ admiring and palming.

Middlebury College Axinn Center for the Humanities will present “The Weight of History” a poetry reading and talk by Tracy K. Smith on March 15, at 4:30 p.m., in Wilson Hall of McCullough Student Center.