Annalisa Barron, Bursting Air (tar, metal solder, glass, and acrylic on canvas, 2013, 120 x 120 x 3)

Our neighbor planted a yardful of twirling
pinwheels hundreds of them
greet me as I come and go
our lawn is unadorned
though groomed into tidy rows
defined by the mower’s silver-
green tracks I am awed
by the grass and its collective obedience
to a larger ideal by the pinwheels’
metallic tumbling how they manage
no matter the weather to exude
the faultless cheerfulness
for which they were manufactured
there are deer in these parts so many
deer you missed them last night
they walked across our yard
blank with moonlight
the empty street they
came upon the pinwheels in silent
delight and bent their necks to taste
but did not taste


Elizabeth Onusko