I continue to find comfort in poetry, in language, in the recognition of beauty, longing and survival.
-Ada Limon

Antonia Matthew was born in England before World War II. Her radio play, “Antonia’s Homefront” built around the letters she received from her father in Burma during WWII has recently been produced on WFHB By Richard Fish and won a Gold Award in “Hear Now Audio Fiction and Arts Festival.” She is a member of the Writers Guild of Bloomington and a student of Women Writing for Change, Bloomington, Indiana.

Welcome to the Poets Weave. I’m Romayne Rubinas Dorsey. Antonia, what poems have you brought for us today?

Rabbit Mysteries

1.
Walk in this neighborhood and find
Rabbits
--appearing suddenly, as if
from out the earth. They crouch low,
noses whiffling, ears alert.
Round, moist eyes move unblinking
in all directions.
A quick cropping of grass
Then
startled, they vanish.

2.
In one deserted yard, grass
grows rabbit-high, sometimes
moves jerkily,
here, there, here.
Ear tips show above the blades
then gone. The grass is still.

3.
At home, the forsythia bush blooms
where rabbits appear and disappear,
-- too tangled for cats to creep through.
This morning a rabbit is there
brushing its whiskers.
Sit still for a moment then
with a sense of purpose hops
across the yard, over the woodchip path
past woodpecker, finch, chickadee
at the bird feeders, till it reaches
the edge of the yard,
the neighbors’ driveway
and crouches, ears turning,
nose sniffing, for some time. Then
it's gone. How? Why?
And why its careful journey
to this particular place?
4.
Clear winter night,
full moon,
snow,
blueness.
Suddenly, it is here
risen on hind legs dancing.
The longed-for Moon Rabbit
Dancing, in moon time,
snow time, blue time...

Come outside into the sunshine

See – Spring has arrived.
Purple/pink magnolia blossoms
in the old tree, are opening.

Birds – sparrows, cardinals, finches – fly
to the feeders. Squirrels crouch, watching.

If you come near no nearer no, nearer
kneel down beside the forsythia bush
and wait, a rabbit will appear.

“Nonsense,” you say.

No, no, it's true.

If you are patient,
though it seems
incredible,
a rabbit will appear.

March 23rd, 2020

The cat and I sit on the front porch
glad for a patch of sunlight,
like the tall maples across the road
--their highest branches a haze of red.

The cat is licking his paws
cleaning his face, over and over,
stopping only to watch
an elderly dog led up the hill.

There are no groups of dogs being walked,
no slapping noise from down the street
where a teenager usually skateboards
on and off the curb, on and off the curb, on...
and the man at the corner isn't sitting outside.

There’s emptiness,
filled with silence,
waiting…
the maples wait silently with me.

You’ve been listening to the poetry of Antonia Matthew on the Poets Weave. I’m Romayne Rubinas Dorsey.