Poem: "Pieced Green" by Pamela Harrison
Pieced Green
Far away, over the mountain, clouds run steely gray, as though this spring were pierced again by snow. Yellow trails into the willow’s shawl, maroon into the maple. Crows cackle in the meadow, trading cruel jokes while we reseed the rows, slowly cultivating hope out of tattered green. Old enough now to know our dream of peace was only that. Once again, we must school our wanting, plow this resonating ache into a stubborn lean of will, work of hands, again, again against the usual ruin. |
LISTEN
Pamela Harrison reads "Pieced Green" |