A Villanelle
A Villanelle
The pool is open, did you not hear?
There’s a banner in town advertising it.
Summer hasn’t yet slipped from my fingertips.
I almost want to cry
When I think about June morphing into July morphing into August.
I don’t want to think about high school
So I hold onto summer,
Delude myself with these fast, magical three months.
I don’t want to think about high school.
Just months ago there was snow dusted across our yard;
Now it’s full of ripe green grass tipped with brown,
The hammock under the tree.
Only weeks until I go to camp.
It feels like just yesterday that I was last there
And spun sunlit memories across the wide cool pond.
Days are gone, and better ones are to come,
But I hold onto summer with all my might,
Dreading the moment when the last tendrils of heat
Slip from my fingertips.
The Voice
August 2024
What the World Is Made Of (Colors)
Color winds its way through souls – plant stems, the lick of a warm breeze, snow, flames that flicker high, painted in red, the color of roses as well as blood, love and war, and veins of life, duali...
A Villanelle
The pool is open, did you not hear? There’s a banner in town advertising it. Summer hasn’t yet slipped from my fingertips. I almost want to cry When I think about June morphing into July morphing int...
The Fleeting Moment on the Bus During Which I Spied a Dead Thing and a Raven
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Reflections of a Tired Girl
I am an enigma; forever stepping in front of mirrors attempting to angle myself in the perfect position to be loved; always making myself smaller than I seem in order to be seen. The mirror never mini...
Eros' Arrow
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Glimpse
It is a wandering sort of day (wandering mind wandering feet wandering eyes) before I find the camera. It looks old enough that I wonder how it still works. Because I have nothing to do and because ...
Acceptance before Change
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Floods – Again
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Painted by a Friend
A welcoming face smiles in greeting, then sets in concentration as colorful strands cascade down her face –a painter painted in cool colorsthat sing of soft sandsand calming wavesmemoriespainted in a...
Intertwined
When only the stars shine, the winds’ whispered rhyme echos across the land as the sea longs for the moon. The magnetic pull weaves their fates together, intertwining them for eternity. The moon chas...
Strangers
Strangers are the closest companions. You take a shot and I let it go. You say I’m pretty and I let it go. Will we meet again? I don’t know.