Produced by Dennis Camire
This week’s poem is by Anna Wrobel of Westbrook, who co-curates the monthly Lowry’s Lodge Reading Series.
By Anna Wrobel
To be this close
to woodpeckers walking backwards catbirds calling out to friends goldenrod not making me sneeze
to earth and grass almost unknown as an urban child.
How have I come here landed in soft hands willows and spruce oaks and maples
a wild ravine chattering life where bucks and does
and fauns may shelter from busy roads not far.
To be this close to
the beauty of everything while masters of emptiness swim secure in gold-plated Nothing
threatening to drown us in the decadence
and the greed
of their addictions.
They would begrudge me even this small September sunny happiness
my side to the sun feet flat on the grass this pen in my hands
these thoughts of children the good we do create
what love we may harvest.
Dennis Camire can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org