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Grazing in a field
of stubble,
loose wire
corrals them
spring grass
struggles to emerge.
Robed in brown
and white,
a quiet congregation
shuffles
toward vespers —
coyotes
in the distance.
From Come Before Winter (Turning Plow Press, 2023).
Used here with permission.
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Ken Hada is a professor at East Central University in Ada, Oklahoma, and hosts a weekly podcast, "The Sunday Poems." Author of ten books, the latest being Come Before Winter, his 2021 book, Contour Feathers, received the Oklahoma book Award. Ken's work has also received awards from Western Writers of America and the National Western Heritage Museum. Raised in the rural Ozarks, he enjoys hiking, flyfishing, and kayaking. Learn more about Ken at www.kenhada.org.
          
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KevinArnold:
Ah, the expansiveness of brevity.
Posted 04/14/2024 06:55 PM
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Leslie Hodge:
Lovely!
Posted 04/14/2024 01:28 PM
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Lori Levy:
Beautiful, peaceful scene depicted here--despite the coyotes in the distance.
Posted 04/14/2024 01:26 PM
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Wilda Morris:
"shuffles toward vespers." Lovely wording!
Posted 04/14/2024 08:35 AM
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wayne.goodling@yahoo.com:
In the last two strophes you pulled me into a place that for me, is large, safe and predictable. Thank you.
Posted 04/14/2024 08:17 AM
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Larry Schug:
To me, "Vespers" is a loaded word. I love its sound, its many meanings and connotations.
Posted 04/14/2024 07:41 AM
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