Sunday, July 16, 2017

Nobody Notices James Scofield

A crow cawed the compliments to the morning.
The meadow was bright with the coldest dew;
    Summer was fading.
The camping trip was over. We stood silently
by the quiet lake, holding hands, gripping too hard
    our measure of love
The brilliant vial of day spilled painlessly
as we broke camp. Some shouts from over the ridge
    open the door...
We plow through a field of thistles crowded like men.
Cars, kids, horns blowing; the beauty drys in my throat,
    nobody notices.

— James Scofield

James Scofield began writing in 1968. He wrote every day for six years producing only 26 poems — all of which he destroyed. He continued to write throughout the 1970s, the 1980s and the 1990s culminating in his first published collection of poems entitled, 30 Poems from which Nobody Notices appears. 30 Poems was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in 1999. A second volume of poetry, Remember Me, Whispers the Dust: Poems was published in 2003. The author died in 2010.

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