BARBARA HILL
ALL THESE THINGS
A dog who had his own chair.
A daughter who questions
everything I say. Four grandparents
unknown.
This country where no one smiles
at a stranger.
The black lava fields
and the mineral baths. An airport
I can’t fly away from.
All of these, Mother, all
of these, Father.
July 2013
Stockholm
HYACINTHS
after w.c.w.
This is just to say
that I’ve taken six
of your blue hyacinths
to Louise at Piper Shores.
I didn’t think you would mind.
She probably won’t remember
who I am and she’ll be distressed
but the hyacinths
will move us
beyond the moment
of failed memory
into the present.
The present
which is sweet
and blue
and lasts forever
Barbara Hill lives in Stonington, CT near the Long Island Sound. She has also lived in Maine, Chicago, Boston, Provincetown, Santa Fe and Scotland. Writing poetry has been a life long practice. Travel helps her to write as does dreaming and watching animals and people. She has had poems published in Santa Fe Literary Review and other magazines.