Pacific Airstream Reaches New England
Listen to a recording of Dolores Hayden reading "Pacific Airstream Reaches New England"here.
86 degrees, December
Balmy high. The New Dawns start in June—
eight Decembers have I lived here, never
smelled pink bushes in the winter. Ever.
Sun-warmed, thawed, and lazy, I won't prune.
Basking, I forget it's almost Christmas,
shed my heavy sweater. Grass needs mowing,
weighted with full blossoms, canes keep growing.
Short-tailed starlings swarm our narrow isthmus,
crowd the maples. Cackle ordinary
happiness, an iridescent, hot noon.
Listen: soot wings wheeling snap warm air.
Roses bud to open. Don't be wary.
Weather beggars winter. Love now, not soon.
Yes, we'll stretch out on the beach. I dare.
Dolores Hayden has written several books about American cities, most recently The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History. Her poetry has won the Emily Dickinson Award and has been published in numerous literary journals, including the Yale Review and Southwest Review. Playing House was published in 1998.
Clickhere to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.To submit poetry to Slate, send up to five poems and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Robert Pinsky, Slate Magazine, Boston University, 236 Bay State Road, Boston, MA, 02215.