Plough Logo

Shopping Cart

  View Cart

Subtotal:

Checkout
summer flowers in a field

Poem: No One Wrings the Air Dry

Laurie Klein

0 Comments

Next Article:

Detail of Marc Chagall, The Sacrifice of Isaac, Musée National Marc Chagall, Nice, France

Does Faith Breed Violence?

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks probes the shared roots of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam: A Review

Named as this year’s Templeton Prize laureate, Rabbi Sacks explores the origins of human conflict and religious practice in a new book. Is religion an evolutionary stage that must be discarded, or is it still vital to understanding today’s problems?

Continue Reading

Explore Other Articles:

0 Comments
0 Comments
    Submit

1
Seeping
, like swollen eyelids
behind Burney Falls,
a dozen nests daub the cliff.
Mother Swift is a black knife
thrust sidewise, the maul of water
rent. Shred-by-strand,
her cargo of moss jeweled
by the mist, she stalls
mid-air: Stone Sweet Home,
slicked over with spit.

2
In the streaming
darkness
the slow, exacting language of eggs.

3
No lulling pulse
, or voice –
chicks in their shells wake
to endless tumult. Pure roar.
Where warmth hovers,
each day’s solace is juiced
with spiders and gnats,
bees, beetles. Whatever it takes.

4
Hour by hour
, the breached
torrent. The killing cold.
For each shivering life,
she is the preening beak.

5
First hop
’s a doozy. Readied
for iridescence, her offspring
brave the shock of quiet,
dry air, and daylight. They carry,
from this flight forward, night’s
living sheen in their hollow bones.

swallows flying low over a summer fiield Bruno Liljefors, Common Swifts (detail). Used by permission. philippajones.com
Contributed By Laurie Klein

Laurie Klein is an author and artist who lives in Washington State. Her first poetry collection, Where the Sky Opens: A Partial Cosmography, was published in 2015 (Cascade).

Learn More
0 Comments