Consider space between trees:
corridors of wind, making un-
expected turns in green leaf light
Flickering sounds, like a travel clock’s
faint tick—those sweeping seconds
caught in Spring’s tide
Drunk on the sight of dandelions, I
can’t feel the lingering cold beneath
my fingertips, which makes me
wonder if heaven is boring— will I
stand beside this cemetery’s fallen
angel & know what I’ve lost?
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.