and post notes and photos about your poem like Debbie Guzzi.
I sit and watch.
Changes come so slowly.
So, vigilance is required,
an attentiveness to minutia.
There are layers of wardings
the watch and I.
Thoughts, which flit and skitter
fight for outward movement.
Flesh that is too weak to hold attention,
leans toward the walls of cracks;
where even the plaster pulls
from its sheaf
and the dirty
double paned glass
waylays the eye.
Enthralled by the changes:
rain to sleet, to snow, to hail, to rain,
the maple buds leaving
their pointillist, rouge-lacquered shells,
dropping like the wings
of an emergent butterfly; I root.
Nights of storm-slapped branches
unfurl orchestrated by wind –
How the maple now dangles leaves like earrings
from the tips of the smallest twigs.
Tomorrow they will open
to palm the morning breeze
and welcome the spears of Lilly of the Valley,
as they emerge overnight beneath the mother tree.
The deer have eaten the tender,
green, tongue-rolled, delights of Hosta and Day Lily,
but they are stalwart plants and will return.
I’ve watched and watched but not seen the deer
though I have seen their bedding spots
among the mulch beneath the maple
in the winter and their hoof
prints in the snow.
Today, I will watch
temperatures are rising
and soon there will be
First Published in Latchkey Tales 2014
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015