in March, before we leave
By Susan Puciul
1.
winter night in the yard
the moon’s room
her rise welling up through
black lace of oak and beech
seize of crystal
on forest ground
mirrors the stern shine
of starry eyes above
same as knew us
before we were
the filament of our names
2.
last pack of leaves
prowls on ahead
jaws in faint furlough
sense the mercy
of apricity ahead
unleashed from the
rimy teat
in a last hiemal hold
wolverine winds still
shriek behind
3.
a blink will miss
this split second of
lion lying with lamb
slim spindle of hope
as the dead stir
upon a dream of newborn green
soon to subsume our x-ray sight
which knows the dark gallop
lives
and although we resist
will always nourish
Susan Puciul lives in Chilmark, and has been a member of the Cleveland House Poets since 2009. Of the many joys and urgencies of poetry, she finds the nature poem to be a splendid vehicle to help us come to our senses and to “stop the world from going to sleep.”
Poets with a connection to Martha’s Vineyard are encouraged to submit poems to Poet’s Corner curator Laura Roosevelt at ldroosevelt@gmail.com.
