Category: Poetry (Page 1 of 50)

Poetry by Peter A. Witt

In Illinois, the land opens wide
as a held breath, cornfields shimmer
in the August heat, soybeans whisper
to the wind’s long sweep.

Her father, born in the front bedroom,
pulls on his boots before the stars are gone,
the day already dawned on the 300 acres.
He walks the fields like a man
reading scripture, hands roughened
by plow handles, hours measured
in sunrises and the ache of his back.

Her mother begins her day before first light,
pies breathing steam on the sill,
cinnamon rolls uncoiling their sugar
like secrets, moves through the chores
of the house, then feeds the chickens
that lay a bounty of daily eggs,
laundry snapping white on the clothesline,
vegetables, warm from the sun
lifted from the garden, still warm from the sun.
Noontime she rocks by the window,
radio murmuring cattle and hog prices,
numbers rising and falling
like the notes of a hymn.

After they were gone, house vanishes,
outbuildings folded into the ground,
the garden buried under road to road corn.

Now only the low rumor of machinery
crosses the fields, and in the hush between passes
you can almost hear the chairs creak,
the screen door close, the sound of voices
calling from the yard.

Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet, twice nominated for Best of the Net. Peter also writes family history, is an avid birder and photographer. His poetry has been published on various poetry sites and appears in several anthologies.