Poetry by Michael Lyle
our yard-sale discards
shabby in daylight’s glare
only undo me
when I spot treasure—
twiggy high chair
where grandparents fed
during mother’s recovery,
like graying cardinals
on a final nest—
sturdy wooden rocker,
where little limbs
rehearsed dancing,
hello and goodbye
folding lawn chair
with one missing web
beckoning rest,
a soak of sun
impressioned recliner
from beside the window
still ready to hold a wave
like a child
sighting a parade,
all priced to go
like yellow goslings
straying an open field
under a hawk’s hungry eye
Michael Lyle is the author of the poetry chapbook, The Everywhere of Light, and his poems have appeared widely, including Atlanta Review, The Carolina Quarterly and Poetry East. Michael is an ordained minister and lives in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. Visit him at http://www.michaellylewriter.com.
