Poems by Jason Defoe

Only Close

by Jason Defoe

From Canary Fall 2023

Jason lives among blue jays, ducks, hawks, and herons on the banks of Pike Creek in the Great Lakes watershed. It is a flat and fertile land nestled between Lakes Erie and St. Clair near the southernmost tip of what some call Canada.

What is near glows:
the blood red
of the maple;
the golden death
of leaving.

What is far fades:
trees dissolving in air
like leaves in tea;
horizons smeared eternal
or erased.

We are seasoned here,
prepared for —
what is to come.

Hold tight to what is close,
what is real;
steady your gaze on this;
allow what is yet far off
to stay hidden.

This fog is a blessing,
a sacred shroud
shielding us
from what cannot be
endured.