Poems by Ronald J. Pelias

Being There

by Ronald J. Pelias

From Canary Summer 2024

Ron recently retired from the University of Louisiana where the cypress trees stand like old wise men with their moss beards hanging almost to the level of the waiting water. Allegators and turtles gather together at their base seeking the comforting sun.

Wind rocks the oak tree
in my backyard, gentle
as the moss swinging
from its broad shoulders
and thin fingers. The bare
ground beneath, damp
from a hard overnight rain,
seems rich, ready
to welcome new life.
A few fallen branches
rest in the bare dirt. Soon
they will begin to rot
become a home for some
small creature, one
I probably will never see.
The eager sun insists
that the leaves glisten.
Each one turns into
a small mirror of light.
My neighbor’s roof
is beginning to dry.
His honeysuckle, in full
bloom, hangs over
the old fence. Beyond
the morning dove’s echo,
there is a calm.
I brought the paper
out to read, but it sits
on the table next to me,
still wrapped in its plastic bag.
The morning is already full.

© Ronald J. Pelias

Being There

by Ronald J. Pelias

From Canary Summer 2023

Wind rocks the oak tree
in my backyard, gentle
as the moss swinging
from its broad shoulders
and thin fingers. The bare
ground beneath, damp
from a hard overnight rain,
seems rich, ready
to welcome new life.
A few fallen branches
rest in the bare dirt. Soon
they will begin to rot
become a home for some
small creature, one
I probably will never see.
The eager sun insists
that the leaves glisten.
Each one turns into
a small mirror of light.
My neighbor’s roof
is beginning to dry.
His honeysuckle, in full
bloom, hangs over
the old fence. Beyond
the mourning dove’s echo,
there is a calm.
I brought the paper
out to read, but it sits
on the table next to me,
still wrapped in its plastic bag.
The morning is already full.

© Ronald J. Pelias