The End of Loneliness Is Not a Crowd,
is not a thousand patrons talking loud
inside a cafeteria, nor the cloud
of smoke that hangs outside, a dirty shroud
over the city. Nor the field, now plowed
in the distance, nor the farmer feeling proud
about his work. Is not a tree endowed
with fruit (not hanging low, not many-boughed).
The end is not the cows so crudely cowed
inside their pens like heavy furrows browed,
as tightly packed as their beefy bulk allowed
while they kicked and stomped and groaned aloud.
The end of loneliness can’t be ka-powed
like that. The judges aren’t so simply wowed.
That doesn’t mean it should be disavowed.
Thanks to Lester Graves Lennon and Rosebud magazine for nominating this one for a Pushcart Prize! It's always such an honor to be one of the editors' favorite pieces in a year.