Songs Of Summer, Discovered In Autumn

Between rhyme and howl
dangles a fragile world,
a mundane egg of art:
where words dance and display
and are not prose
because prose is not fit
for frame or stage...

My husband found some of my old poetry in a box in the back room when we were decluttering our house. He asked me if I wanted to save it. As it turned out, I did.

I wrote these in September and October of 2003, shortly after I'd discovered I was pregnant with our second child. It is now my autumn. I am not young; I bear no fruit. But here is a memory of summer. My tree once blossomed.

These poems have also been published in the commercial edition of Excavations.