Standing in a Late Season

Mark Senkus

the wind moves in the direction
of the crows over the long field
the sky does not hesitate to press
down with its cold eye

laughter early in the noise
of morning
sounding like a foreign language
the hours running through the light
from their gathered brightness

the sun today can hold no warmth
like a tire being punctured

shadows stiff against the ground
like eyes that will not blink

in the distance the canal rises with
the firm droning of water

the weight of the river
grows heavy as grieving

we do not know what
we have missed.

Mark Senkus lives in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and works as a psychotherapist. He writes in the evenings, the mornings and at work while he is on breaks. Senkus was widely published in the small press poetry underground of the late 1990s. He began writing again after a twelve year hiatus from poetry.