Every Day Something Different

by Jane C. Miller


Yesterday as I walked my dog, I heard the noise
            wind makes in a storm—not falling
leaves, or their rattle—there was

no wind, only a moving insistence like
traffic muffled in snow; not snow, a blizzard

of wings, a parabola of starlings
             risen from trees to churn the cold, and

today an eclipse, the moon sanded by earth, one thin
             bright handle unattached; we are

detached from so much, but when
             a knock-out rose survives the frost
like a megastar blowing the crowd

             a kiss, despite monsoons and fires
and unnatural disasters, every day
             something different shakes loose

what we know: the older I get,
the simpler I become: wow I whisper
             as awe ghosts the porch.

Jane C. Miller’s poetry has appeared in Colorado Review, RHINO, UCity Review and Apple Valley Review, among others. A winner of the Naugatuck River Review narrative poetry contest and a two-time recipient of a state fellowship, Miller is co-author of the poetry collection, Walking the Sunken Boards (Pond Road Press, 2019) and an editor of the online poetry journal, ൪uartet (