September This month cuts its own hair, the trees’ dream of going bald and old roses sport candelabras. The mosses cannot hold on as tightly as they did in June. The forsythia droops like a girl’s braids at the end of the first day of school. Black-eyed Susans flirt over the heads of dead-headed daisies. […]Read more "September"
Praise for a June Morning At half-dawn the male cardinal slams his beak against my bedroom window, time and again only to retreat every few minutes to trill his maleness. The mourning dove coo ooh oohs in the woods as a smooth breeze invites maple-greens to ride its flush – to suggest fresh is how […]Read more "Praise for a June Morning"
Meridith Frazee lives in Charlottesville, Virginia. She enjoys reading and spending time outdoors. More of her work can be found in Crossroads VII or in her school’s literary magazine. how to wait for June, and happiness because she is so fragile wait for her with empty hands because she’s golden green grass delay your […]Read more "how to wait for June, and happiness"
Raspberries in June He asks me to come by, read her some of my garden poems at four o’clock. June sun will be high and hot through the windows in her hospital room. She may sleep. The surgeons opened up her abdomen from stern to pubes and poked through the curves, bends, folds and hiding […]Read more "Raspberries in June"
The weather was a lot different and Hawthorne Boulevard was a lot different. 6/29/08 I’ve finally indulged in a Moleskine in hopes that having a fancy notebook will actually get me writing again. This particular one is the perfect size for the purse I bought at Last Thursday. Today there was an unusual thing in […]Read more "June, 7 Years Ago"