Another Poem

     Despite several poems finding their way onto this blog, I realized today that I've yet to introduce one. Ironically, the poem you're about to read is a narrative one and presents itself fairly literally, so whatever introduction I'd give will likely be echoed in the work itself. I will say, however, that I recommend reading this on a desktop computer (as opposed to a mobile device). The mobile version of my blog compresses the text, as would be fine, but it so happens that the formatting (spacing, verses, ect) of the poem is also squished to fit thy telephone. So for best results, please read on a laptop or desktop—something civilized I BEG you.

     As always, thank you so much for reading.


In The Garden

I read The Bell Jar in the garden one afternoon.
Lemongrass and spearmint fought on the breeze
and I walked slowly, thumb and index finger holding
and left hand turning page after New York Plath page.
Absentminded and content, I grazed on sugar snap peas
half-ripe blueberries, and crimson raspberries. The incessant
whir and chip of hummingbirds harmonized with whispering
birch, alder, maple and I pause; I squint into the forest,
pick a seed from my teeth, and mock the cackling jays.
Solitude indeed, yet hardly alone—the ever-beating
heart of nature thrives, drives its gouts of green life
to the soil under bare foot, the nettle avoided beside,
and murmuring heads of lettuce, regal in their ruffled
purple gowns. I breathe deep and read, walking still,
listening still to the forest’s choir and the field’s buzz
and the garden’s hum. I would capture, if I could,
this peace, imprisoned in a bell jar for all to know.