OVER HERE, AUTUMN BLAZE
--for Leslie & Spencer Hatton
and for Little Giant Fire #2
on the deck, making my street
sign, Autumn Blaze, the great maple,
its canopy a shield, eats up the smoke,
leaves with their five points extended,
working non-stop, cleaning the air,
a miracle of community organizing.
Air underneath Autumn Blaze, clean.
Until I leave the yard for the street
witness for Ukraine, I don’t know
this myself. Smoke from fires,
foul, dangerous like the war—of
course—it’s part of the war,
the fires. It’s Thursday and I join
20-or-so others, witnesses. This is their fifth
year of vigil, and I joined them
last year. One can’t see the Maple’s
work, but sitting underneath it
one breathes free. I have a new sign
today. I don’t give my signs titles,
they’re working signs, matter-of-fact,
you might call this one, Chekhov
in Ukraine. I’ve taken pastoral images
from his stories and travel, details
that move my heart, like this one:
‘a tall Ukrainian, long-nosed, long-armed,
white shirt, embroidered collar, balloon trousers,’
from The Steppe. from a letter, ‘I am
completely enchanted,’ on my sign.
These street signs are shields,
after Hephaestus—his immortal work
for Achilleus—that shield, that one--
model for Ukraine, workers harvesting
grapes, disrobing young lovers--
you can hear their kisses—and music
coming out of streams of silver!
When I came back from war
60 years ago, my professor calling it
a newspaper—last image Hector’s men
would see before Achilleus’ sword
entered their bodies--domestic. My street sign come
from this vision, on cardboard,
disintegrating in weather, hauled
in and out of the car, ephemeral
in traffic,--but make no mistake,
cut from the same metal
Gods gave Hephaestus—standing
with Ukraine, standing against fires,
the one here in Yakima Valley, Union Gap--
the one where you live—that one,
too. And that war. The war in Ukraine,
the same war, same conflagration
as the one where you live--
devastation reaching from ocean
to ocean, blue-band of water encircling
Achilleus’ shield, magnificent
part for the whole, leaping all boundaries.
Jim Bodeen
27 July—29 August 2026
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