Where I LiveYou will come into an antique town
whose houses move apart
as if you'd interrupted
a private discussion. This is the place
you must pass through to get there.
Imagining lives tucked in
like china plates, continue driving.
Beyond the landscaped streets,
beyond the last colonial gas station
and unsolved by zoning,
is a road. It will take you
to old farmhouses and trees
with car-tire swings.
Signs will announce hairdressing
and nightcrawlers.
The timothy grass will run beside you
all the way to where I live.
whose houses move apart
as if you'd interrupted
a private discussion. This is the place
you must pass through to get there.
Imagining lives tucked in
like china plates, continue driving.
Beyond the landscaped streets,
beyond the last colonial gas station
and unsolved by zoning,
is a road. It will take you
to old farmhouses and trees
with car-tire swings.
Signs will announce hairdressing
and nightcrawlers.
The timothy grass will run beside you
all the way to where I live.
by Wesley McNair
What a wonderfully evocative poem by a poet new to me, Nan. I peeked at the website you link to and have bookmarked it for a more leisure read later in the day. I'm interested now in Maine's poet laureate and his poems. Thank you for the poem and by way of it the introduction.
ReplyDeleteI really like this poet, Penny. I saw him on a public television program a while back and then bought this book of poems. There's another one on the blog -if you click on poems and scroll down to his name. He's quite wonderful, I think.
ReplyDeleteSounds like someplace I want to be.
ReplyDeleteIt's pretty much like where I am, Lisa!
DeleteThis is beautiful, Nan. I have never heard of this poet, but will try to find more or his work.
ReplyDeleteHe's a wonderful poet, Kristi. He writes a lot about the ordinary things of live.
DeleteYour word verification is impossible. I tried three times and was never sure what on earth it was supposed to be. It seems by some miracle I got it the third time. But this is honestly too hard and I'm sure you must miss some comments, Nan.
ReplyDeleteI just got rid of it!
DeleteI love that poem...so very realistic of towns!
ReplyDeleteIt's pretty much like this one where I live, Staci!
DeleteSuch a nice poem. And love your beautiful cat.
ReplyDeleteI really like his work. And Miss Raya says thank you. :<)
DeleteGrowing up in a small town that has slowly lost its "small" flavour I can relate to the emotion coming through that poem. Lovely. It made me feel nostalgic.
ReplyDeleteSuch a touching response. Same thing here. I live in the next town over from where I grew up, and that hometown now has many big box stores, and the Main St is struggling to hold it together.
DeleteMcNair is really a wonderful observer of small town life, from what I've read so far.
I grew up in a town like that -- out West though. I'm off to read more about/from this poet. Thank you for the poem and the link.
ReplyDeleteI so like his work.
DeleteI didn't end up seeing Wesley McNair at the National Book Festival last autumn, but I wanted to, since I'm originally from Maine. I especially love that last line. It really makes the poem for me.
ReplyDeleteI think he is a wonderful poet.
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