Betsy Fogelman Tighe

Afternoon Light

The far south foothills of the Rockies
flat black against the afternoon light,
silhouette or stage set,
substance and ephemera at once,
like the love we sometimes believe we receive
and sometimes give.

Curtains of rain, graphite filings
leaping to magnetic earth,
unreachable but present
like that other love
the priest says we must have trust in.

An arrowed lightening pierces the blue
streaked sky.
It is a mother calling her children home,
twilight falling
and her voice, as the screen door slams,
penetrating.

How Decisions Are Made

Walking through a copse,
we often will not see the birds
until we've flushed them from their perches,

the way decisions are sometimes made,
arriving, a disturbance.

The birds do not scatter far,
but settle quickly on nearby branches
 and peer down at us,

as one choice trembles on another
 and the nest gets laid.

Betsy Fogelman Tighe has published widely in small literary magazines such as TriQuarterly and Verseweavers. Tighe works as a teacher—librarian in Portland, Oregon, where she lives happily with her two young adult children. contact