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Stillwater, Oklahoma

4. PROMISES

I’ve seen life’s simplicity and it made me smile.
I’ve watched the horses in their fields on the town’s edge,
visited cattle lounging in shade in July.
I’ve waved at the farmers on their tractors, thanked them.
I’ve laughed at the new goats frolicking and climbing.

I’ve seen your fuchsia redbuds in bloom, buds bursting.
I’ve seen joyful petals pushing out of branches,
the promise of Spring and potential of April.
I’ve chased butterflies, paused to follow scissortails,
I’ve danced with grackles with their long velvet feathers.

I’ve felt the sun on my back, warm and oppressive.
I’ve wondered in late Summer if the heat would leave,
felt the scorched grass and falling leaves of September.
I’ve found joy in the heat, remembering Autumn.
I’ve daydreamed about the promise and chill it brings.

Notes

Written 19 February 2020

Brian Fuchs, “Stillwater, Oklahoma” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Stillwater, Oklahoma

3. THROWING SPHERES: A MIRRORED CLOGYRNACH

My boyhood never depended
on throwing spheres like all men did.
I so often mused
if I had confused
dead with bruised
God forbid

Days in parks,
I’d explore
searching woodland floors
for seed pods and more.
Imagined tree friends, their rough bark
I’d so much missed since our last lark.

“that scattered belt of forest land, about forty miles in width, which stretches across the country from north to south, from the Arkansas to the Red River, separating the upper from the lower prairies, and commonly called the “Cross Timber.” — Washington Irving

Notes

Written 19 February 2020

Brian Fuchs, “Stillwater, Oklahoma” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Stillwater, Oklahoma

2. THE WEATHER

I have stood under skies full of rain.
I have been a scared child, comforted
by the clouds which might burst into storms,
and by hail, the chaos of thunder.
I have seen the bright sun in the sky,
oddly close, maybe more than before,
close enough to reach up, touch its rays
if not for exhaustion from the heat.
Everything start to wilt on those days,
our spirits, slumped lilies still standing,
thinking back on Easter’s soft beauty.

Notes

Written 19 February 2020

Brian Fuchs, “Stillwater, Oklahoma” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Stillwater, Oklahoma

1. HEARTBEAT

“a vast and magnificent landscape. The prairies bordering on the rivers are always varied in this way with woodland, so beautifully interspersed as to appear to have been laid out by the hand of taste… to rival the most ornamented scenery of Europe.” — Washington Irving

I’ve felt your beating heart;
thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…
thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…
Old folks still make weekly
pilgrimages to pray,
to seek God and solace.
Many hours of my youth
I spent rubbing the hands
of my grandma, wrinkled
and loose-skinned like mine now,
while the congregation
sang hymns from “the blue book,”
while old family friends
talked about love, dryly
reciting the red words.
Three times or more a week,
we’d gather to worship.
Thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…
I have felt the comfort
of belonging there, fell
for empty dogma long
before my welcome stopped.

Notes

Written 19 February 2020

Brian Fuchs, “Stillwater, Oklahoma” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Echoes of Deer

The presence of deer fills space, their auras clinging to trees.
I walk where hooves must’ve been, down creek beds bursting with roots.
Ghosts haunt and whisper, rustle leaves; they watch us until we leave.

Written 16 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Echoes of Deer” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Skyline & McElroy

These spaces were once open wide;
we explored the details for hours.
They seem to darken and cower;
now they shrink, wither, and divide.

Free, we stretched our wings fearlessly.
We never thought we’d have bad luck
even after Christine was struck
and Rusty was rushed urgently,

tire and concrete in his face,
to the E.R. for doctors’ care.
We’d still head on bikes anywhere
while those two recovered en brace.

Oh joy! to feel that wind rushing,
to ride down hills foolheartedly,
to find the paths left secretly,
to forget near tragic crushing.

Now, Gayane’s final act is all
the excitement I dare to take.
The shrinking neighborhoods forsake
my inner child — they’ve turned small.

Notes

Written 15 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Skyline & McElroy” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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My Native Valley

Lacosha! you kept passing by.
We never picked bright yellow
flowers in the fields on Spring mornings,
and we never chased rabbits
through people’s backyards on
Autumn afternoons.
I’m still looking for words,
my voice muffled by fear,
to invite you to my birthday party.

Notes

Written 15 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “My Native Valley” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)