Month: July 2018

Writer of the Month

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This month we are pleased to feature Edward J. Rielly. He has been contributing to Shemom since 2009 and has always been a pleasure to work with. We both share a deep appreciation for the farming life which he writes about below.

Edward Rielly lives in Westbrook, Maine, with his wife, Jeanne, and near their children and grandchildren.  He was recently named professor emeritus at Saint Joseph’s College after retiring following forty years in the college’s English Department.  He has published approximately thirty books, including volumes of poetry, a memoir, biographies, studies of popular culture, and children’s picture books.  His recent books include Answers Instead: A Life in Haiku (winner of the Mildred Kanterman Merit Book Award given annually by the Haiku Society of America), the children’s picture book Spring Rain Winter Snow, the memoir Bread Pudding and Other Memories: A Boyhood on the Farm, and The Sister Fidelma Mysteries: Essays on the Historical Novels of Peter Tremayne (edited with David Robert Wooten).  His poems have appeared in several issues of Shemom.  He is currently working on How They Led, a book about Native American women leaders.

The Cow Path

barbed wire fence—
cow watching me,
my pants leg snagged

lead cow  .  .  .
other cows single file
before Dad and me

Mounds bar wrapper
on the cow path
long after milking

after the farm sale
stillness of the stanchions  . .  .
my father’s silence

*
smell of alfalfa . . .
small boy at the fence
watching his father

*

waiting for rain—
the toe of my shoe
nudging dirt

*

inside
out of the rain
watching the rain

*

cracking a ball
against the barn wall
the boy imagining
crowds cheering, applauding
his every perfect play

*

old back porch—
in faded red concrete
a small handprint

*

young granddaughter . . . .
we sit on a green blanket
moving toy cows

*

grandchildren’s visit
each hand reaching
into the cookie jar

*

scraping the bottoms
of burned cookies . . .
granddaughter’s smile

*

holding my hand
granddaughter leads me
into her world

*

child’s coat
unzippered
she licks snow
from two mittens,
one red, one green

*

small-town parade:
granddaughter’s head bobs
in and out of view

*

spring sunshine—
the child’s hand searching
my shirt pocket

*

October moon:
at my door a little ghost
goes “boo!”

*

our wedding cake–
the last saved piece
several freezers ago