The larks trilled their cries that
Nested in my ears in birdsong.
I saw the thaw of winter had begun.
Soon spring would rush in on her
Pastel heels bringing forth blooms.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
To read Linda’s bio and enjoy more of her verse on WIZ go here, here, and here.
the hand of winter stretched out
his grey gloves and poured snow
out of his pitcher it fell upon the
world in cold numbing waves it
washed away all the colors of fall —
it beat back my favorite lilies into
the hand of white dust like people
are prone to beat one another into
the dust for a sense of self worth. [...]
I watched as the white of snow
starched the earth clean of sins —
like the Savior washed me white
by his blood. It seemed a stark
contrast of his shedding white for
red and the earth shedding scarlet
for white, but I think He favors the
irony just as much as we do. I stood
in the bone numbing cold of winter,
letting [...]
In the tar-like black sky
structures float like ghosts
through the illumination from bulbs
hovering like flying saucers over
the road. No heavenly
luminaries accompany me on this lonely journey.
Only those cones of light brighten the route ahead.
Nevertheless, I must persist.
I am a modern Hebrew
fleeing the Egypt of the office, escaping to
the Promised Land of the field. There,
as I stand [...]
This is a long post. Also, emotionally, it’s perhaps overfull and addresses subjects like pregnancy and childbirth from a standpoint I held over twenty years ago. The “mental illness” storyline continues. Part one may be found here.
I spent the next five hours in the basement with my husband trying to find him in whatever place [...]
Today I read your verses, and I wept.
Your loss, transcending centuries, has torched
a hole in my self-pity, scattered ash
across four hundred years, and scorched
my martyrdom into the oak-slat floor.
The sad account of how your house burned down,
your passing of the ruins every day.
Each broken brick of future, smudged and brown.
And now I know the leaving [...]
How ugly you all are,
An all-over ugly!
Iris bulbs unearthed and scythed
Of top leaves,
I lay your twisted, tuberous
Bodies across a gutted paper sack
And take a moment to grimace
At your grotesquery.
Dirt clings to your stringy reaching roots.
Not even warm water and bleach
Can pretty the rough hide of your skin.
Poor horrid hags!
But wait—don’t droop,
Shrivel dry in shame.
For I [...]
That industrious black-banded yellow worker, the bee, and a dragonfly soar swiftly, silently through the sky
The glowing rosy crescent rising slowly after the iridescent sunset and the stars glinting like jewels amidst a sky as black as tar
The fresh greenery mushroom every spring and the rolling hills with their lush grassy frills
The sun shielded by [...]
Our first hard frost burned off the garden’s remainders this week. Only the carrots made it through, their tops billowing up from the soil, bright green and fluffy compared to the ashes of the tomato plants, peppers, cucumbers, and squash. We had a long growing season this year with some lovely successes, so I’m good [...]
I walk barefoot through the grassy
knoll,
your heaven – remembering your
green thumb and long sought after
gardens
lost to daydreams or disease.
The flowers you planted I never
learned
the names of, something exotic,
I was never good in Latin. These
you spent
the most time with, watering them
like children. I think they listened to
you more.
Your sister says I have no business
gardening – I [...]