Poem by Jim Culleny

It Could be Now . . .

I feel a cup slip from my grip then I
see it heading for the floor . . .

………………. —it could be now

I see the morning trees, the jittering
leaves of aspens in a breeze
above our tool shed dancing. . .

………………. —it could be now

I’m reaching for glasses set in rows,
I take the nearest thinking of cool water that
will sate my thirst, I know . . .

………………. —it  could  be  now

Here we are among a group of others
recalling, laughing, being, and someone
asks if I’d like him to refresh my drink
at which point it happens that I think
I’m falling, leaning . . .

………………. —it  could  be  now

Clouds of water vapor passing
overhead, the day is brilliant, sunlight
bouncing from blossoms of Hydrangea
warm and white as slices of my mother’s bread . . .

………………. —it  could  be  now

It then occurs to me, again, the earth is turning,
the sun is burning, daylilies are returning
because you loved them there, grew them,
placed them as you always do, with care, and