Poet’s Corner: Into the depths of winter

Winter Solstice   The dry rustle of leaves is what I remember, and the lateness of the hour — moon yet to appear. Something ending, something about to begin. Raven makes a different sound than owl, makes a different sound than snow falling not quite silently over December woods —     a passion falling from darkness as Earth turns imperceptibly toward her spring. By Susan Jefts     I wanted to use a solstice poem for the December column, but was having a hard time finding the right one, so I took the suggest … (read more)

A Resurrection Man   After too much time working in the graveyard of unfinished poems where midnight ground is littered with broken metaphors and cracked headstones, where disappointment’s weather has blurred the lettering of reluctant epitaphs,   I with … (read more)

In Whom We Live and Move and Have our Being   It’s October Snow geese fly far above the trees in sleek silence. Canada geese circle noisily above the stubby cornfield. White pines drop their needles through the clear air transforming the forest floor into … (read more)

Down to Earth   The heart of a farmer is made of muscle and clay that aches for return to earth. And when the sky releases a steady rain, massaging each row of sprouted beans, my husband leans out of the car window and opens his hand to hold that water fo … (read more)

                  Inside   Ducks of the early morning lake vee into nearby reeds, early summer rustling toward flight   while elsewhere morning scrim slowly rises, loosens peepholes along shorelines, pinpricks of light on familiar mountain stonecroppings … (read more)