Tiffany Shade


by Louis Daniel Brodsky

Growing Older

Now, almost all the row corn has compromised
Its grossest base nature. It no longer grows,
Merely stands still, wallowing almost piteously,
Like a man suffering protracted depressions.
Some green stalks remain, forgotten or left
Purposely for overfilled silos; the rest bend,
Arthritically brittle, toward September’s end.
Not even a persistent vision of summer green
Redeems the present debasement that nature
Endorses as seasons disintegrate. Decay changes
Memories. You and I are two different people,
Though we traverse this highway in a horizon
Clouded with snow-gray pillows floating ahead,
Atop all these harvested beds, for us to choose.
Tonight, we’ll lay our heads on one and dream
Pumpkins and zoo bears and dry, fallen leaves
To rake into piles to hide inside and be young.


Tiffany Shade explores the poetic nature of life’s routines. With his detailed, imagistic depiction of both daily activities (making business trips, living in a small Midwestern town, settling into married life) and mystical events (contemplating imminent parenthood, celebrating holidays and birthdays), Brodsky restores the love, humor, beauty, wonder, and appreciation for living so often overlooked in the rush of day-to-day existence, exulting in "sweet seasons of deep youth" even as he feels his own daydreams "gather fuzzy dust."

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