Holiday at Normandy
This June morning my skiff
rides toward shore, grinds bottom;
I hit the beach in my father’s steps–
twenty seven,
twenty eight,
twenty nine . . .
thirty yards the letter said.
This morning a pale regiment
patrols, white gulls drive the tide,
falling back without casualties.
Then one more wave attacks
and the skiff rides empty back to sea.
–Dave Bishop
Â
Local poets were writing about contemporary events in the Sangamo
Journal as early as the 1830s. People’s Poetry wants you to share your thoughts
on what’s happening in Springfield today–in poetic form. Poems on any subject
will be considered, but ones that deal with issues of local interest are encouraged.
Send yours to poetry editor Lee Gurga, P.O. Box 662, Lincoln, IL 62656, or to
gurga@ccaonline.com with “Bards of
the Sangamo” in the subject line. (Please limit your submissions to poems of
14 lines or less.)
This article appears in Jun 5-11, 2003.
