Tuesday, June 25th

The boys will run naked

when they get here

like Lord of the Flies.

Concrete streets are all they know.

Clean air will flow up their noses here.

Wildflowers & roses are growing in the garden.

With their little city hands,

they can till my Earth,

and plant more.

We can dig a hole,

mix in a cup of bone meal 

and give the roots cool water

 & then we’ll run to the cornfield.

The corn has grown so high, 

you should see it.

I don’t think you’ve ever seen it

& if it’s a windy day, we will stop 

and watch the stalks and tassels

dance in circles

like the Cherokee

and Lakota.



Wednesday, November 20

Shriveled and dried,

the corn has died.

the leaves have fallen.

The wind has chased 

them into the strawberry patch

where Jemima Puddle-Duck,

our ceramic scarecrow,

guards the dormant berries

from desperate critters.

We wait now for when

 life awakens

& the light strengthens.

Will you visit me then, Brother, 

when the days are longer

and you are warmer?

Nancy Byrne Iannucci

Nancy Byrne Iannucci is a librarian and poet who lives with her two cats: Nash and Emily Dickinson. THRUSH, Maudlin House, San Pedro River Review, 34 Orchard, Bending Genres, Typehouse, and Glass: a Poetry Journal are some places you will find her. She is the author of four chapbooks, Temptation of Wood (Nixes Mate Review, 2018), Goblin Fruit (Impspired, 2021), Primitive Prayer (Plan B Press, fall 2022), and Hummingbirds and Cigarettes ( Bottlecap Press, 2024).