Letters: Sidewalk poems

Note: We had two readers try their hand at our Sidewalk Poetry prompt from the last issue. Here are the results.


I’m just a slab of sidewalk,

That runs along the street,

To provide a path for people,

Who travel on their feet.

I’m neither rich nor famous,

And that’s OK by me,

For I exist exactly,

Where I am meant to be.

Dick Wenkel, Falcon Heights



The Welcome Guest

It’s really here!

I know because today as I sat on the deck,

The sun soaked through my jeans

The wind washed my hair.

Snuggled together, my husband and I watched it come.

And the earth began to grow again!

A great relief settled into my heart!

You can doubt green-growing things in the grip of a Minnesota winter,

Doubt that grapes once hung on the garden fence,

Wonder if raspberries actually grew red plump on those stark stems.

But, it’s here!

I can see it in my husband’s smile,

Hear it in the neighborhood children’s collective scream and yell

As they careen through the yards,

Running, running, running!

The tired old glider in the back yard swings up and down, up and down,

And it is once more piloted to South America, Africa, and outer space.

The cat goes berserk—racing up one tree, down and across to another,

Chase a leaf, spin around, roll on the sun-warmed sidewalk.

Oh! I want to shout WELCOME in grand crescendos and loud hosannas,

Dance whirling and jumping across the yards with the kids,

Hello Spring!

Where have you been?

Don’t stay away so long ever again!


Barbara Leary, St. Anthony Park

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