What Happens in Spring (An Atypical Poem)

 

We have a window facing a tree

in front of the Museum of Natural History.

A tree never moves.

On April 11 we watch the tree

from brown to green

and we who watch turn too.

What will grow today?

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

3 Comments

  1. There is a huge old maple tree
    That I can see from my kitchen window.
    As I stand over the sink, I often think,
    What woman has stood here before ?
    She is no more, but the tree is…
    And I am… “Remember where you are”.

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