Poetry Sunday: Mailboxes in Late Winter by Jeffrey Harrison

Winter in cold climes can, of course, be hard on people, but in rural areas, it can also be very hard on mailboxes. By late winter, they are showing the scars of the effects of the long season. Like all of us, they wait for "news from spring." 

Jeffrey Harrison feels their pain.

Mailboxes in Late Winter

by Jeffrey Harrison

It’s a motley lot. A few still stand

at attention like sentries at the ends

of their driveways, but more lean

askance as if they’d just received a blow

to the head, and in fact they’ve received

many, all winter, from jets of wet snow

shooting off the curved, tapered blade

of the plow. Some look wobbly, cocked

at oddball angles or slumping forlornly

on precariously listing posts. One box

bows steeply forward, as if in disgrace, its door 

lolling sideways, unhinged. Others are dented, 

battered, streaked with rust, bandaged in duct tape,

crisscrossed with clothesline or bungee cords.

A few lie abashed in remnants of the very snow 

that knocked them from their perches.

Another is wedged in the crook of a tree

like a birdhouse, its post shattered nearby.

I almost feel sorry for them, worn out

by the long winter, off-kilter, not knowing

what hit them, trying to hold themselves

together, as they wait for news from spring.