First the Chickadees take
their share, then fly
to the bittersweet vine,

My mother comes back from a trip downtown to the dimestore. She has brought me a surprise. It is still in her purse.

I sit by the window all morning
watching the planes make final approaches.
Each of them gathers and steadies itself

Jane Kenyon’s poem “At a Motel Near O’Hare Airport” appeared in our Winter 1975 issue. I sit by the window all morning
watching the planes make final approaches.
Each of them gathers and steadies itself
like a horse clearing a jump.I look up to see them…