red booth
review
issue s16een
|
Slow Season
The power of the evergreen lies
in its long wait, surviving by
will.
While the azalea grips itself,
strangling life out of leaf to
remain.
The once robust star of the bush
flutters limp and churns to loam.
Modes of life, never dying weeds,
thankless roots which persevere
till Spring.
Like reptiles asleep under a dull
sun,
turning by instinct, tunneling
under.
We dig, huddled below ground.
We wait, light-headed in the lull.
Our turn in the slow season
lukewarm, without appetite, blind.
We hold still in hiatus, the pause
of rebirth. Patience becomes us.
- Ann White
| Ann is a Pushcart Prize nominee
whose poems are forthcoming or now showing in Dead Mule, Blue Fifth Review,
Lily, Triplopia, HLFQ and a few other places. She is a former journalist
and magazine editor living in Florida. |
|