A Letter-Poem from Saginaw

I recently attended an excellent workshop sponsored by the Friends of Theodore Roethke Foundation in Saginaw, Michigan. Led by poets Anita Skeen and Jane Taylor, the workshop focused on letter-poems which, as one might suspect, are poems which are also letters (or letters which are also poems, if you prefer). I wrote this poem as a letter to one of my many grandchildren and based it on the view from our tour bus when Linda and I traveled to Iceland last fall.

OF MOUNTAINS, SHEEP AND DREAMS

The mountains are not high in Iceland
and there are sheep on every slope.
Most bunch-up near the base
while others climb half-way and stop

and only a few fight on to the top,
where the lichen is thin
and a thick fleece needed
to stave off ocean winds.

Don't dwell long with the herd,
for only from the harsh summit
will you see the horizon 
and dream of what lies beyond.

After writing and revising the poem, I realized that it put me in mind of one of my mother’s favorite poems, which might also be called a letter-poem.

COME TO THE EDGE

Come to the edge.
We might fall.
Come to the edge.
It's too high!
COME TO THE EDGE!
And they came,
And he pushed,
And they flew.

(Christopher Logue, English, 1926-2011)

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My book, SLOW RIVERS, can be ordered through your local bookstore or online via bookshop.org. (ISBN 979-8-218-43822-7)

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Joseph Neely, all rights to original material reserved.