POeT SHOTS is a monthly series published on the third Tuesday of the month. It features work by established writers followed by commentary and insight by Ed Krizek.
Fund Drive
by Terri Kirby Erickson
She could be a Norman Rockwell painting,
the small girl on my front porch with her eager
face, her wind-burned cheeks red as cherries.
Her father waits by the curb, ready to rescue
his child should danger threaten, his shadow
reaching halfway across the yard. I take the
booklet from the girl's outstretched hand,
peruse the color photos of candy bars and
caramel-coated popcorn, pretend to read it.
I have no use for what she's selling, but I
can count the freckles on her nose, the scars
like fat worms on knobby knees that ought
to be covered on a cold day like this, when
the wind is blowing and the trees are losing
their grip on the last of their leaves. I'll take
two of these and one of those, I say, pointing,
thinking I won't eat them, but I probably will.
It's worth the coming calories to see her joy,
how hard she works to spell my name right,
taking down my information. Then she turns
and gives a thumbs-up sign to her father, who
grins like an outfielder to whom the ball has
finally come—his heart like a glove, opening.
This poem is a vignette about hope, youth and love. Many of us can relate to hawking a bit of nonsense for our causes as young people. But it is the spirit of the girl and her hopefulness as she prospects for a customer that punctuates various points in the poem.: “/She could be a Norman Rockwell painting/. “…Eager/ face, her-wind burned cheeks read as cherries?” /I have no use for s selling, But I/ can count the freckles on her nose, the scars/ like fat worms on her knobby knees…/. “. This child is a beautiful symbol of the hope all of us have for the future.
The girl’s father “waits by the curb, ready to rescue / his child should danger threaten…/ He is watching his child grow and learn with hope.” The poet thinks to herself she won’t eat the confections she buys although she knows she will. And she doesn’t care because the image of this child with her father is so poignant that she cannot say no. After getting the thumbs up sign from his daughter the father”/grins like an outfielder to whom the ball has/ finally come---his heart like a glove opening.” What more can one say about love?
Ed Krizek holds a BA and MS from University of Pennsylvania, and an MBA and MPH from Columbia University. For over twenty years Ed has been studying and writing poetry. He is the author of six books of poetry: Threshold, Longwood Poems, What Lies Ahead, Swimming With Words, The Pure Land, and This Will Pass. All are available on Amazon. Ed writes for the reader who is not necessarily an initiate into the poetry community. He likes to connect with his readers on a personal level.