Recently Published Poetry

In Her Time

Never a day goes by that
I don’t think of you,
your wide brimmed straw
hat, pinkish, well worn;
you, working in your garden
at sunup, hoe in hand, even as
you aged, your large corner yard,
your paradise,
your universe,
and I hoped you would never leave
us – beloved woman of the prairie,
grandmother of the land.

–da hickman

published …  A Prairie Journal 

Afterlife

Colors in flight roam
the bountiful prairie
like owners of a vast
land, jewels released
by an invisible hand,
a gentle power:
reminding us to take
flight, birds our
musical inspiration –
a resilient creature,
a turned on, jazzed out,
nimble, airborne spectacle –
a peek at our future.

–da hickman

published … The VLP Magazine

Blissful

Tossing the yellow pencil aside,
the one
he chewed on to
ease his
worries,
the grandfather glanced out
at the swirling snow,
at its pace and peace,
its renewable beauty,
and wondered about
its message,
knowing one was there
to be discovered,
all of nature a vehicle
for understanding,
a direct route to the
source of all
creation.

Strangely transfixed,
his emotions jump-started,
the man reminded himself that
snow was merely white fluff,
impermanent,
not as perfect as perceived.

Yet, he loved its allure,
could not pull his eyes away,
kept searching for a deeper meaning.

Moments passed, then more, and
a restfulness came over him,
a wave of quiet joy,
the snow thicker now,
pouring from the sky like
juice from a pitcher,
and he now knew where the
snow had taken him, that he
had arrived at the beginning,
back where the world began:
had simply merged with
the innocence
and delight of life
itself.

–da hickman

published … Fine Lines Journal

When the Wind Blows

Sensing the unseen when the wind blows,
part of me flinches with uncertainty,
an aura of change and disruption brought
on by bustling tree branches, strands of
hair draped across my face, leaves dancing
across the yard as if rushing off somewhere,
yet, the blowing wind can also refresh and
invigorate the far reaches of my soul,
reminding me without a word to move around,
to begin, to run, not walk, to live my life fully
before time has run dry — the wind stilled in
my ears, as if forced to stop.

– da hickman

published … Pasque Petals (by South Dakota State Poetry Society)