The wind she howls.
Where? Who knows?
Sun burns me up,
She cools me down,
On this hot summer day.
I sway with her.
How? To and fro'
She bends my boughs
But never breaks
A sapling on my fringe.
And when it rains hard,
I drink.
When she blows hard,
I think
That I'm the tree
She'll never uproot.
She admires how I sway
And the fact that I stay
Put, in the face of her bluster.
(2006)
One More Article / Un Altro Articolo
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Over the years teaching at La Scuola d’Italia NY, I have learned that
children are not just students; they are careful observers of the world,
full of q...
6 months ago
Or getting your work published?
ReplyDeleteAC87-Thanks for the compliment. I haven't really thought about writing a post on what inspires my poetry, but I have a sense that genetics has something to do with it. My father writes poetry, too, and this weekend, for the first time, we got around to talking about it.
ReplyDeletePiNYC-To tell the truth, I've never really given any thought to publishing them. Truth is, I just write to satisfy my own need to do so. But I'll never rule it out...
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ReplyDeletePublish indeed.
ReplyDeleteThis poem - these words are gorgeous.
DCup/Fran - You two flatter me. I promise. I will submit some of these to the New Yorker and other publications that accept submissions of verse. What have I got to lose, right?
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely, submit. And well, if there's a submission fee, you can lose $10 bucks, I suppose. ;-)
ReplyDeleteRandal, you're right. $10 is so worth the effort of submission. Can you spot me on it?
ReplyDelete