Barbara MacKay

Day Out of Days

After Sam Shepard, Day Out of Days, 2004



A goldfinch perches on the top most branch of a pine this day out of days

The sun glints on its broad yellow breast, its ebony wings this day out of days


The sky a deep blue, the sun so vibrant it melts drifts of snow

As such a sun once melted Icarus’ wax wings, falling, fallen on a day out of days


Ordinary (yet not) how seeing my neighbor’s row of sunflowers triggers in my mind’s eye

A vision of the daisy chain I wove round a boy’s wrist on a long ago day out of days


Someone, close by, saws something rhythmically, the sound buzzing softly

Back and forth, to and fro like a violinist bowing this day out of days


Across the way a deer nibbles at foliage while watching me for as much as

A flick of my finger as I watch him― I remember this day out of days



Barbara MacKay lives in Little River, Ca. Her work has been published in various literary journals including Thema, Bryant Literary Journal, Mariposa Haiku Journal, Woodpecker Haiku Journal, American Tanka, and most recently The Ghazal Page. She earned an MA in English Literature at the University of New Hampshire, Durham, NH.