BEFORE DAWN It’s almost noon and I hear the dove bleating at my window where I usually hear her just before dawn Has my neighbor bird slept in? Did something wake her late last night after nesting? Did she pour herself a shot of rum— Cuban or Nica— to remind her of her children and old music How she continues to sing. How she wakes us. BELIEVE In the rain. It seems to be a new, a decent year so far the one we’ve been praying for— those of us who believe in prayer or good strong thoughts broadcast out the way we used to broadcast seeds for the kitchen garden or fields of grain—wheat, corn, barley, rice— a blessing that might feed us.
Two Poems by Norma Smith
