Feature: Charles C Brooks III Day 3

Pilgrimage

In Lúnasa I went for a stroll
to buy peanuts and a Coke.
Alone except for dust and loose stones,
pines cut a cool line ahead.
Their shade was a friend
against summer’s hard stare.

I rambled, rambled, rambled on.
Looking beyond lazy cattle,
a pond dotted by cattails
and dragonflies
soothed turtles on warmed rocks.

To my left spread out a buddleia.
Two Monarchs sifted through
its ivory-bundled blossoms.
I spied the randomness in their routine.

I neglected to notice until then
the scarcity of these ballerinas.
Spring Azures,
Swallowtails, and lacework Whites
were late.
Maybe a deluge
washed away too many cocoons.
Perhaps they overslept.

Ahead, an old trading post;
commerce off a rarely-traveled road.
The exterior, like its attendant,
was weathered.
A cigar store Indian stood guard
over this magnanimous, God-fearing man.

“Hot enough for ya’?” he asked
from under a hat
that’s logo had long ago faded.
“It’s not so bad”, I nodded in return.

Back outside, drinking Coke
with the salt of peanuts,
I decided to hide in shadows,
scuttling away from the flames.

© Charles C Brooks III

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Q&A

Q: How do you know when a poem is complete and needs no more revisions or do your poems continually evolve and change?

A: I have two kinds of poetry in my arsenal. I have what I call “snapshot” poems that come out fast and usually take up no more than 10 lines. Those generally get a once-over for technical corrections, but then they go untouched. Then there are the longer pieces that I work on for years. An epic I started eight years ago will be in my book, but I’ll stretch and condense it for the rest of my life. I skate the line between “getting it right” and “beating a dead horse”. I pay close attention to my inner ear when I read poetry aloud. Once it clicks I put it down.

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Dragonfly by Jen Pezzo