Earthquake
in Blossom Time
by Doris Lynch
I
fold into
my
pocket the
handkerchief
you
used shortly
before
dying
and
go out to greet
the
backlit clouds,
so
frolicsome
and
adventurous.
In
the neighbor’s yard
redbuds
offer
their
mauve tears.
Poking
through
lawn’s
needlepoint,
so
many green
slashes
of hope.
The
earth woke me
this
morning bucking
feelograms
from deep
within
its crust.
The
window sashes
that
I wiped
clean
of cobwebs
yesterday
rattled in
percussive
approval.
Earthquake,
felt
so rarely in the Midwest.
In
bed, I lay shaking--
a
fledgling in wind--
awash
in both terror
and
joy--anticipating
that
the ground will be
solid
and still beneath me.
Bio: Doris Lynch has work recently in the Tipton Poetry Review, the Atlanta Review, Frogpond, Haibun Today, and Contemporary Haibun Online. The Indiana Arts Commission awarded her three individual artist’s grants: two in poetry and one in fiction.
Bio: Doris Lynch has work recently in the Tipton Poetry Review, the Atlanta Review, Frogpond, Haibun Today, and Contemporary Haibun Online. The Indiana Arts Commission awarded her three individual artist’s grants: two in poetry and one in fiction.