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Poetry

The Gift

What comes each dawn                                      
I do not know

Dawn knows no reason                              
Keeps its own season

Buds at budding time                                
Ripens at harvest time

Dies in its prime                                        
Leaves one fresh gift

To confound the clever painter            
Blending at their palette.

Categories
Poetry

Peace Keeping

Peace Keeping   

My garden has been my refuge,
but I’ve been away too long.

One evening I found my garden
shot through in crimson, gold, and wildfire.

As the sun pressed lower
I drew water for the birds.

Kneeling under red clumps of currants
I plucked greedy weeds and scattered

fists of mulch over sleeping roots.
Now in shadow I chopped tangled

thorns and nettle, avoiding their fire.
I took up my spade and opened a trench

to guard the perimeter from crabgrass.
Come nightfall I set down my tools,

and in the cool darkness
I lay silent and still
beneath the moon’s soft blanket.


Categories
Poetry

Trimming the Tree: A Christmas Poem

One glass swan
Color of Reisling
Weightless
What else endures?
Nothing
Ornamental
Nothing
Fragile
No relics
No artifacts
This frost-lit night
December’s
Tea-stained sidewalk
The Aurora
Flowing through
The cold black sky
Thick with stars?

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Poetry

Categories
Poetry

Epistle: November Poem

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Poetry

October: When to Worry

A poem for October, for always.

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Poetry

September Poem

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Poetry

The Old Man – a poem

The old man paused on the bridge
a favorite stop
upstream of the lazy oxbow

where a boy once watched
the milky gold
afternoon light

spill through the alders
into empty space
over still water

its silent weight
filled the air

suspending dragonflies
as they patrolled the cattails

urgently

as if they knew
the lateness of the hour.






Categories
Poetry

August: A Poem on Mortality

By Anya Krugovoy Silver, who died in 2018 after breast cancer diagnosis in 2015 (also the year she gave birth to her child). This poem of courage and insight is typical of Krugovoy’s lyrical poetry and her bittersweet, wise reflections on mortality as she lived with cancer. She said she saw her poems bloom during these years, and her writing helped her live with loss and grief. August, a beautiful poem.

Categories
Poetry

Writing is an act of recovery and self defense.