Home
Winter/Spring
2011
Autumn/Winter
2011
Summer
2010
Spring
2010
Winter
2010
Autumn
2009
Summer
2009
Spring
2009
Autumn
2008
Summer
2008
Spring/Summer
2008
Winter/Spring
2008
Editor's
Note
Guidelines
Contact
|
Three
Poems by
Linda
Leedy Schneider
First
Snow
I
walk into my office, and the world is changed: A
life-dividing moment like my first breath, my
first step, the first time I rode a two-wheeler alone, my
first kiss, the time I left home suitcase
in hand and climbed the steps alone, the
first job, the birth of my first child, her
leaving for kindergarten, the
death of my father. Through
the French doors I see snow
like a quilt on the yard, deadheads
of daisies, rabbit
tracks like a message, the
skeletons of trees against the gray sky, and
I wonder will I ever be ready for
the last dividing moment, ready
ever to let go of this snow globe world?
|
Rain
Washes
the maple’s
hands muddies
the soil around
the perennials they
planted silently last weekend. Yesterday’s
yarrow has collapsed. Yellow
saucer heads tilt. Yarrow’s
wild cousin, Queen Ann’s Lace, remains
upright, a throne for the purple queen. Fuchsia
phlox bend with
the breeze touch
the ground but
do not buckle. Daisy
searches for the sun, the
reflection of its all- knowing yellow
eye. Daisy always ready
to decide Saffron
daylilies trumpet-- open,
ready, reckless, wanting-- unaware,
this
is their only day. She
walks to
the garden releases
her hair to the wind, lifts
her hands to the rain
|
Things
to Discard
a
friend whose talk leaves me daydreaming, the
size 6 jeans I may be saving for
my granddaughter or that final illness, the
oversized jacket in firecracker red, love
letters from the Viet Nam war, his
dog tags, the dreams that still come, an
unworn blue silk nightgown, six
wedding dresses, my mother’s, which
she doesn’t remember, mine
torn from children's dress-up, three
from the weddings of my two daughters, one
I am keeping for a divorced friend, the
pictures from the first marriage, his
green letter jacket, files
full of poems marked in process the
spider webs on my easel, the
longing that has lasted throughout
this marriage.
|