A Little Poem for My Granddaughter Lilly

Lilly Watching the Birdies

Lilly, thirteen months, sits at the window

Watching the winter birds

With great focus and interest.

“Dat,” she says, pointing at the black-capped chickadee,

“Dat,” again, for the junko and then the bluejay.

I want to show her the bright-red cardinal,

The robin, the downy woodpecker.

All the bird wonders of Chardon, Ohio

This little corner of the world,

Her grandparents’ home . . .

(Bob Coughlin / December 26, 2018)

A Poem for February

Two triggers for this poem: On Monday I took a hike on the Maple Highlands Trail in Chardon (on what once was a railroad track). I was the only person out hiking during the snowstorm, and it was so beautiful. Also, my friend Kathy Flora told me how happy she was shoveling snow one evening recently. I think I understood her happiness.

February in Northeast Ohio

I. Hiking the Maple Highlands Trail in Chardon,

Not another person in sight.

Snow four inches deep, none but occasional squirrel tracks,

Sugar maple, tall pine covered with white, every branch and bud,

The woods quiet—

And beautiful.

Can’t believe this good fortune,

This blessing,

To be witness to the silent beauty,

This contemplative miracle.

II. Shoveling the driveway in the dark.

Cleveland Heights, this busy town,

Relaxes, quiets down, exhales.

Swirling snow dancing in the streetlight

Nothing short of magical,

This peacefulness, this beauty.

As you push and lift the snow,

You notice your muscles,

Thank God for them,

For skin, nerves, bone, and sinew.

How to explain your joy?

And who would ever listen?

                        Bob Coughlin / February 9, 2016

Poem about Chardon and Geauga County

Below is a draft of a poem-in-progress. It is somewhat fictionalized (my daughters are no longer little girls)--but it is true enough!

Just Under the Surface

Ratatatatatatatatatat . . .

The brutal rhythm goes on beyond my ability to count the rounds.

Any evening of the year, down at the end of my cul-de-sac, the dead end,

Or in two places across the road, less than a Hail Mary pass away,

Neighbors shoot at imagined enemies with some sort of automatic rifle--

A machine gun, in my mind, a terrible weapon of war,

Discharged into the woods in this suburban paradise.

My little daughters walking on the wooded path

The coyotes, the deer

Better beware

As a hail of fire rifles through the wood.

Under the surface under the surface of this wealthy suburban county

Like an embarrassing hateful tattoo

Is fear and hatred and violence

More intense than in the 3rd World Cleveland ghetto.

So I was not altogether surprised

When TJ Lane let loose his disturbed vision of vengeance

On innocent classmates in Chardon High School

That late winter day in 2012.

That anger, hatred, frustration is there. It is there, lurking

Just under the surface in wealthy Chardon,

Privileged Geauga County Ohio.

[Copyright 2013 by Robert M. Coughlin]