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The Poet's Corner

I stopped on the little bridge over the creek today to let the sun caress my back, the wind float my sweat away, the lazy pull of the water streamline my thoughts. The sky was blue, and the ground …

Your Dandelion

You were gifted a dandelion Many moons ago The flower helped you laugh The flower helped you grow But the dandelion itself Had nowhere left to go So you put on a brave face And let it break your heart …

Instructions for Morning

Now, in September, now, before it is too late, take off your shoes and walk out into the garden. Walk out into the garden and if the sun be shining, let it soak through your clothes into your skin, …

Discerning Silver

My grandfather bears a pocketknifein the same pocket, every day. Which: right or left? More instinct or ritual? Unconscious or holy? My father stashes a multitool hidden in the depths of a dresser full of …

One Sunday in The Pines

We sat at an old wooden table, and shared some snacks. She looked at me, at the sky, the water, and the trees. We walked slowly around the lake. The path was covered with soft, inviting, pine needles.

Moon Dance

I glide effortlessly on the glasslike surface, a lotus flower in a lily pond no ripples no strife I turn toward the heavens to keep me safe & calm a respite in a world where prayers often …

The Second Day of His Birth

St. Luke’s-Roosevelt, New York City Remember when I said to you, Hold your son. And you said, Later. And I said, You didn’t hold him yesterday. Hold your son now. I knew you were afraid, but you …

Blueberry joy

Dad taught me how to search forripe blueberries, how to tickle the stemsand gently strip branches cleanwithout bruising the fruit. Back then, giggling, we’d pop a fewin our mouths, and I’d roll …

Fade

Your kitchen, in grey hesitant light— coffee, French bread, goat cheese served on blue unmatched china.Breakfast is simple as always. We eat quietly.The hiss of the espresso potintersects careful …

The Night

Oh Moon, whose ancient face has viewed this mortal sphere from Alpha on, until this very night, when silent shafts of glow creep down to change each daytime shape with soft, ethereal light.

Independence Day

The day after my mother’s death, my niece and I pour through photo albums, find a box of loose, curled, snapshots — images of the massacre at Gardelegen —a barn door opened by American …

Filling in the Blanks

We had so little time dad.

Meryl

The first time I saw my father embrace my mother was when she struggled through cancer. Framed in my mind is a wild-haired woman in a limp flannel gown, held stiffly in Father’s heavy hands at the end …

A red roan Appaloosa moseys to the railand pokes her nose across at me to snuffsome sweet hay in my fist, switching her tailas her eyes cross to focus on the stuffthe better in the dim air. Stars are …

Footprints

Footprints on my barn floor To whom do they belong? To what do they belong?

A Widow Weeds

A widow weeds beside the house that has become her husband. She’s annoyed he hasn’t shaved. She walks to the lake that has become her sister. They pour into each other. She tells the lake about …

Spirit of St. Louis

In the year 1950 on a cool September morn Was a tragic disaster yet to be born. Just ahead was a troop train stalled on the track And the Spirit of St. Louis was coming in the back. Then it all happened, …

Later

We speak in whispers, move in silence from room to room, listen to the oxygen’s steady pump moisture bubbling through the tubes. Three days unresponsive. I sit with her until someone else comes in. …

RIVERRUN

Poet’s Corner is curated by Bucks County Poet Laureate Tom Mallouk and supported by a grant to the Bucks County Herald Foundation made possible by Marv and Dee Ann Woodall.

Night Noises

As frost softens and ice disintegrates, daylight lingers, only slightly until one evening, perhaps when you least expect it, the night opens to a chorus of small voices, sharp and shrill. The spring …

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