Elaine Johnson

Gutter Blues

Today the blues came

and now I sit
considering
the neighbor’s
rain gutter.

Full of dead leaves
sagging
it hangs low
along one side.

Tilting out
away from
the rotting fascia

rain
comes
and spills
before
it can reach
the downspout.

At the corner
bent and broken
by a fallen branch
or a climbing boy
it hangs
like a limb
in need of a sling.

Over the front door
there is hope
here
the gutter stoutly hosts
two trees
side by side.

Young and naive
they comment with pride
on the rich soil
in which they’ve sprouted.

They talk of growing old
spreading shade
and seeds
over the stoop below.

And me
I think about dry weather
that will
come their way.

Garter Snakes and Jesus

Garter snakes and Jesus

afraid of both
I pull scabby knees
up under my chin.

In the garden
dark rows of beans
exhale.

Grey wings spin
try
to get in
to the everlasting light
of the back porch bulb.

I think about Nancy Drew
not here
on the farm

She doesn’t have to
witness
to her friends.

I don’t believe
she’s afraid
of hell
or the basement steps.

Garter snakes and Jesus
the meek shall inherit

the Holy Spirit in the grass.

Free to be held captive
by the eternal white
sound
of chestnut flowers
falling

Unfaithful heads
with faces up
show
the shining One
itself.

Three times the circle
turns
spilling
enough to tip
the heavy ways
out

Until
the hummingbird
is buried
in the center
of a small stump.

Then
I lay down
in the warm
dry ditch
smiling at Jesus
and his friend
the snake.