Poetry Wednesday: Fiction
Fiction
Going south, we watched spring
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.
When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers.
by Lisel Mueller
from Alive Together. © Louisiana State University Press, 1996.
Courtesy The Writer's Almanac
Happy Spring! Celebrate by sharing a poem with me in honor of National Poetry Month, which is right around the corner. You could earn yourself a free book of poetry!
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.
When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers.
by Lisel Mueller
from Alive Together. © Louisiana State University Press, 1996.
Courtesy The Writer's Almanac
Happy Spring! Celebrate by sharing a poem with me in honor of National Poetry Month, which is right around the corner. You could earn yourself a free book of poetry!
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