.
Out in the Open
The slanting rain comes on and on!
The cold drops blear and blur the sun
When they hang in my eyelashes.
My heavy stomp in the mud mashes
The leaves and twigs and mud together.
I plough on through the battering weather.
I walk with my wet face toward the sun
That glares along the field’s tree line,
The bruised clouds straight up over me;
The rain stops momentarily
Then starts again, with hails stones
As hard as small white peppercorns.
The sun is down low, almost home,
And red-orange like mercurochrome—
A tinting light across wet hay.
The end of day comes gradually.
But since I’ve let the rain and light
Soak into me, I may keep on toward night.
.
.
Steven Frattali worked in the field of mental health and currently lives in Greater Boston. In his former life as an academic, he published two short books: Person, Place and World: A Late Modern Reading of Robert Frost’s Poetry (English Literary Studies, 2002) and Hypodermic Light: Philip Lamantia and the Question of Surrealism (Peter Land, 2003). His book on Elizabeth Bishop is nearing completion along with another on John Wieners.
Dear Steven,
Loved the flow of the poem. The comparison of hailstones to peppercorns was a masterstroke.
Best wishes!
Dear Satyananda,
Thank you for your kind remarks. And I enjoyed the naturalness of your rhymed couplets in your poem on the lemon tree. That is difficult to do.
Best wishes from Boston!
Hailstones like white peppercorns also really brought your poem to life as it did for Satyananda. Comparing the setting sun to red-orange mercurochrome further cemented the vividity of the poem.
Dear LTC Roy,
Thank you for reading my piece. And I liked the vigorous rhythm you gave to your meditation on death.
I read in your bio, Steven, that you are not unfamiliar with Frost, and this poem is a good example of what he called loose iambic. It is also steeped in Frostian perspectives, which I commend. Follow the road.