OF Things So Precious and Brief: Dispatches From An Unfinished World

I am so in love with this simple yet startling piece. Doesn't it's smallness just speak volumes? Oh, I am nearly in tears over it's beauty!


by Rebecca Lindenberg

A leaf the green that a child would choose
if asked
to draw a leaf.
This heavy-petalled rose
is humid as the accent
of my current correspondent.
Trees unberried by bird.
Trees unleafed by beetle.
My correspondent
is a tentative man and I
am unaccustomed to tentative men.
White rose blossom
browning at the edges.
Paperback book.
Inside, my mother humming
a song I’ve never heard.
Kinds of holiness.
Trees unbarked by winter deer.
My correspondent
will not let me love him.
Green things make
such mild noise.
I uncross my legs
to find, with a bare foot,
that sun has warmed the stone.
I partake of the sun.
And the stone.
National Poetry Month #27


Popular Posts