The Rain, Part 2

By Matthew W. Schmeer

The broken down Ford

Sinks in its rust.

Weeds do not break it.

Then the swallows arrive,

With their five-fingered feathers

And beaks of tin.

Sometimes I can hear them,

Beating the air against the

Barn’s broadside, the straw

Muffling the echoes.

Yesterday, the ground gave way

In the south twenty, and the

Grass is too green

For September.

– Matthew Schmeer edits the online journal Poetry Midwest and is assistant professor of English at Johnson County Community College. Submit your poetry via e-mail with a subject line of Poet’s Showcase to mpaget@ljworld.com or send typewritten (not handwritten) submissions to Mindie Paget, 645 N.H., Lawrence 66044, attn: Poet’s Showcase.