For National Poetry Month, I’m sharing poems each day, one that I’ve written followed by whatever one from three sites that share a poem a day that strikes my fancy that day.

My Grandpa Fields listened to the radio late at night. One of the things I remember most vividly when our family went to visit him in North Carolina, usually for Christmas, was him surfing through the channels on the radio dial. I remember listening to the radio along with him from the room where I stayed. Later in high school and college, I found myself surfing the radio dial late into the night.

Continuing Granddad's Legacy 

I surf the AM waves
nights after the Late Show, tune in/
tune out women radio shrinks, traffic 
reports, talk shows that use words like

"premature." I always leave one ear open
for the slap of leather against
backboards, sneakers on wooden floors,
the other for the Mutual Broadcasting Network

brings you Larry King Live, 
except come spring when both listen for 
the pennants to unfurl for the Yanks. 
Unrealistically I seek a voice as harsh 

as Ella's "Basin Street Blues," silky
as Sarah's "Always," understanding as
Dr. Joy Brown, or contradictory as Rush
on the FM. I will never find anything as foreign 

as the Cuban propaganda pirate stations, 
enticing as Texas radio there, as on the flip. 
Like Granddad, I am learning to appreciate
the Grand Ole Opry, yet also crave to hear

more "race" records, bebop, the Big Beat.
I am continuing his legacy in my own way,
trying to pick up some whisper of
sanity, some voice of reason to speak to me.

Today’s poem from one of three sites that share a poem each day is “To the Tune of Qiu Bo Mei” by Lu You (translated from the Chinese by Shangyang Fang) on Poetry Daily.