Tuesday, June 21
BENEDICTION
The wind in swells through the wild rye rolls.
The bright sky dulls. Over the hills,
Their green backs ringed with blue-
Bells sunset-run, flaps a wingy shadow-west
Ward. A jay. Poor bird that no net
Met nor gin it didn't love. Good luck,
You luckless scrub, you.
You dumb—, you doomed
Sucker. God bless.
(Jay Hopler,
1970-2022)