3 poems by Phibby Venable

Sisters

The small glimpses of peace
my sisters find,
grows by a narrow river 
with a wide mouth emptying
independence and hopeful
signs of love
into a litany of imperfect caresses
They are wrens wild with flying,
and they champion
the uncertain paces
of loyalties
A mockingbird sound, 
a ghosting in the eyes,
wolf howls subdued in their demeanor
My sisters are warmth and warnings
with codes written by a white mother bird
They cannot grow extinct
Guilt and love keep a wide ear
that leans toward the constant splashing
of bloodlines
that pull and resist with equal valor

The Listener

I would never steal the words out of your mouth,
but I am a deceptive listener
I notice the laws of gravity when your words drop
at the end,
swoop around you where your shoulders sag
with brave intentions
Last week I took the finch that sang a broken song,
and today the wildflower seeds struggling
in the dirt of poverty
Some days I try to nudge a herd of wind-blown horses
into hard plowed pastures
I see them kicking rows that have hardened to ruts,
until it is all soft earth
Some days I take your breaking voice
and layer it with feathers
I am stealing with the gift of re-giving, 
again and again

Rain on Tin

you are that sound.
a tremor of pebbles
down a furrow of dark.
exquisite in dark gray
in the darkset of metal.
a shaving from trapped twigs
in the cracks of the roof.
a pounding fast aria
a thousand bing blast.
a sacrament of water,
an overflow for eaves
a hard rain, a fast train
storming tracks
in my dreams.
a proprietor of sleep
to a white noise mind
a freight to slow thought
steady, steady,
no design.