Eileen McCluskey

The meadow sighs. Its tall
grasses bow. It misses

the children and their mothers
who sang under the trees.

It misses that music, flown
across the meadow
by bees and breeze.

In its loneliness, the meadow speaks
a strange tongue, echoes the scratching
moles burrowing beneath its stony flanks,
mimics the sipping roots and hopping birds.

The sun overhears and worries,
knowing meadows are meant
to be quiet and listen to the laughing
stream that visits after a rain, listen to the birds warn

of coyote’s approach
so the rabbits will dive
for their warrens.

Nothing can bring
the meadow back its joy.
Every day new sorrows invade
its tree stands, goldenrod,
grasses and brook.

The sun could almost weep.
Despite its many powers
and fiery love, it cannot
burn away what has been done,
or will
into being
what hasn’t.

Eileen McCluskey’s publications include poetry chapbooks: Divorce Haiku (once banned) (Origami Poems Project); Topless (Main Street Rag). Her poems appear in Ibbetson Street, Main Street Rag, WBUR’s Radio Boston, Boston College Magazine, Rufous City Review, among others. Poetry recognition includes: Wickford Art Association’s 2019 exhibit of poets and painters; finalist, The Poetry Loft 2015 Chapbook Contest; and Cambridge Poetry Awards 2012 competition.

This poem appears in Uprooted: Poems of Resistance, Witness, and Survival (The Chaos Section Poetry Project, Fall 2026). We’re sharing each poem from the collection individually over the coming weeks. You can read the full book or download the free PDF here.