Poetry Porch: Poetry


Basin Wild Rye
By Rebecca Kaiser Gibson

My sister told me, right there

were parched fields

that any year now would burn

for certain.

We sat,

both of us in that dry afternoon.

She spoke

incessantly of disaster.

Wild seed at the tip

                of my tongue,

and the grasses swishing.

Would you be silent?

Copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Kaiser Gibson.