Monday, April 30, 2018

Alice Morris' "Crickets" #poemaday #NationalPoetryMonth


--from the archives of The Broadkill Review

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Crickets


probably no wiser than a cricket's chirrup
I drive through the Bighorn Mountains
a sudden shower
drops the veil
of morning

crickets
leap from the stubble
sound like low lisp of rippling tide
sound
the minutest cricket – 
like a long line from a poem

nighthawks flit over fields along the river
like a
naked
soul
like
hedge-crickets
with treble soft
remembering the first star

midsummer
in a field –
crickets sing for a mate
I imagine
distant temples
where crickets sing all night, and the stars,
low lisp of rippling tide
whisk of the invisible  
Becoming

when the crickets stop their cry
I stop to listen
to trees digging the air for crickets
branches
where history spins
at dawn
here, here, here, crickets 
at the end of my hours



"And Now, Goodby" by Jaroslov Seifert, Three Songs at the End of Summer by Jane Kenyon, Long Island Sound by Emma Lazarus, How Baseball Saved My Marriage by Kristen Lindquist, The King and Seer by Emily Warn, At the End of My Hours By Dana Levin


Alice Morris comes to writing with a background in art– published in a West Virginia textbook and The New York Art Review. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in The Broadkill ReviewDelaware Beach Life, Silver Birch PressRat’s Ass ReviewThe White Space, The Avocet, and The Weekly Avocet. Her poems are also published or forthcoming in themed collections and anthologies, most recently Rehoboth Reimagined, The Way to My Heart: An Anthology of Food-Related Romance, Ice Cream Poems: reflections on life with ice cream, and Bared: Contemporary Poetry and Art on Bras and Breasts.


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