By Jeff Rawlings
I could die on a day just like this
With a slant of sun casting dramatic shadows on my face
The nattering birds are finally unconcerned now the snow
Is melting into mud and their feeder is full again
Overhead an airliner full of merry makers
And desperate salesmen etches a line into the cobalt sky
She used to call them skyscrapers
Back when she could still speak of such things
I don’t want an intervention here
But the ice-laden guttering is creaking and my old dog
Is probably hungry again
And isn’t the colonoscopy next week
The sun casts a perfect glory around my face
And there’s a siren bawling in the distance
Maybe it heard me say
I could die on a day just like this
Jeff Rawlings is retired following a military stint, a long career in quality systems management, and a delightful four and a half years on the staff of the Donald W. Reynolds Library serving Baxter County. He is a 1972 U of A Fayetteville English Lit graduate, and he was most active in writing and publishing during the 1990s and early 2000s. In recent years, he has reclaimed his passion for the language and the written word. He was the poetry critic for the Poet’s Roundtable of Arkansas for the 2015-2016 term, and he is now connected with several local poets with whom he shares his scribblings and observations.