"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray
"Poetry unites." ~Anon
"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson
Written by Therese Broderick
She lives in Albany, New York, USA
Her site: Ekphrasis (poetry on art)
(First published online in The 2River View
(11.4, Summer 2007),and reprinted here with
permission of the author.)
These Seven Years
In some past self we hardened
Around the deepest stone
Within us which we must now
These seven years
Bring to surface with blade
Or trowel. Raised, felt, it will
Settle atop the ground, guardian
Of our flowers, fending away
The wind and rain. Like mounds
In a rock garden, evident
And intentional, what we raise
Becomes then what we step upon,
Where we balance for another age
Before releasing our next stony thing:
That quick beetle, pebbled,
Posted with consent of the writer.
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