Poet's Platform Column | 24 May 07 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

DEPTH PERCEPTION Maxing out their cards that summer they went all the way across the nation telling no one why the sudden decision to hunt out all the spots they’d vaguely said they’d see someday when they were better fixed. They let people think it was frivolous whim. At her funeral his glistened eyes went past the crowd to inwardly review those fast-forward days that somehow slowed things down when they were on the run together not trying to outdistance the inevitable (they’d made that peace before the bolt) but trying to process as many sights as possible upon the point where their two vision lines converged so he’d not see things flat through all the years he might yet live. Marietta Ball Xenia, OH Credit to: The Journal of Kentucky Studies   REVOLVING LIFE From morns; early sunrise     To sunsets' eventide         Through darkness of night; 'Til dawn breaks a new day     Into blue-hued sky         Until sun fades its' light; Over and o'er again     Life rotates with earth's orb--         Season as birds in flights; Tick-tock; tick-tock of clock     As the seconds come forth         Minutes to hours invite; Kaleidoscope around     Reflecting mirrors found         Color-fused pattern by sight; Merry-go-round turning     Hear the happy music--         Children and aged delight; Revolving memories     Collected in lifetime--         Reflectively ignite; With fire of rising sun     The peace of golden dusk         Pleasure brought to new height... Evelyn Pearl (Carpenter) Anderson London, KY   One More Spring If not of the grave, perhaps from a tomb, immersed in shadows that speak of the night, to wait beneath darkness, while still trusting the light. The hawk does rest on the head of the pawn as rays of first light trickle through branches to seek a rebirth. As my eyes do interpret the resurrection of dawn, my senses detect a re-claiming of earth. Buds follow daily while transforming to blossoms to dance with the leaves. In the distance a bell tower doth toll a familiar ring, while returning birds build nests as they gather their sheaves. A kindred spirit somewhere from the past seems to tell me, I will see one more spring. Nicholas Johnson (Deceased) McDermott, OH From “A View From Sheep Ranch Hollow”