The Bard
Terri Lynn Cummings
Desk lures fingers
Urges me to open blinds
invite a row of pear trees
into the room, blossoms
sweetened with renewal
Mary Oliver’s words
… They save me; and daily *
embrace us
with grace and grit
resist wind and ice
from storms
Loyal limbs bend
or break and grow back
reach for the sky and sing
an ode to Nature.
Life swirls in rings
of struggle and survival
seasoned by generations
Enlightened
I am still here
* When
I am Among Trees, by Mary Oliver.
Poet’s Notes:
“The Bard” bloomed from a
writing exercise in poetry group. My colleague and I had just read “The Poet”
in The Lives of the Heart by Jane Hirshfield. We decided to
visualize the place where we normally wrote poetry, incorporate poetic devices
such as the five senses, choose words and phrases from magazines, and so on.
When I thought of the window over my desk, the daily scenes, the onset of fall,
this poem sprang from the pen.
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