Poetry by Thomas Feeny
for Lorelei
Somebody has to dig,
someone’s called to plant, you say,
shrugging off all those who
with smart grin place
themselves well beyond
remembering how to
scratch and hoe,
turn the soil, pat it, work it.
Yours ever a warm touch
to growth still unfolding.
Like the sun this long season
you are needed.
Later, edging into
winter, how content
you’ll be when,
left to examine your hands,
you nod, wait, anticipate.
Thomas Feeny teaches Italian and Spanish at North Carolina State University. His poetry has appeared in California Poetry Quarterly, Chiron, and Hiram Poetry Journal. He has also done considerable translation of poems and short stories written in the Romance languages.
