March 4, 2025: Beth Roberts, "V" & "Spotted Deer"
V In just a minute I’m going out in the boat. A census enumerator drives up in a rusted Prius, glad he has work during the pandemic. I hear my grandmother in the white-throated sparrows. In just a minute I’m going out in the boat. And my grandfather in the red pines he planted, taller than four pickups end to end. A census enumerator drives up in a rusted Prius, glad he has work during the pandemic. And my father in the red pines he planted, now taller than he was. In just a minute I’m going out in the boat. And my mother in the memory she’s losing. A census enumerator drives up in a rusted Prius, glad he has work during the pandemic. I tell him I came up here to quarantine, the only one. In just a minute I’m going out in the boat. Excerpt from “June 2020,” On Natural Things by Beth Roberts, Harvard Square Press, 2024 Spotted deer What do you call it when you drove with your dad out to the forties so he could see if you could see deer, and you balanced coffee in teacups while the truc...