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Posts Tagged ‘Maine’

Poetry Friday round-up is with Irene at Live Your Poem.

My poet-friend and writing group partner, Molly Hogan, is a fine art photographer in her spare time. She lives in Maine and posts amazing photos on her blog and Facebook page. Sometimes her photos inspire me to respond in poetry.

photo by Molly Hogan

Dawn on the Marsh

Dawn on the marsh glows
like embers, like the final flash of a torch
lighting the tiny particles of fog 
rising ghost-like and dreamy.

High in the sky
geese line up
to honk their way south

In the distance, deer graze,
tentatively perk their ears
to your sound.

You do not feel the cold
that numbs your fingers and toes
as you click the lens of your camera

whispering a prayer of thanks.

Margaret Simon, draft 2019

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Cynthia’s Garden

Poetry Friday round-up with Linda at Teacher Dance

Poetry Friday round-up with Linda at Teacher Dance

Rose of Sharon photo by Cynthia Lord

Rose of Sharon photo by Cynthia Lord

I love being able to connect with authors through Twitter and Facebook. I met Cynthia Lord at NCTE last year, and she has graciously allowed me to be her friend on Facebook. The photos of her home in Maine place me there, much like her middle-grade books do. I was involved with the Summer Poem Swap this summer. I wrote this poem for a poet who lives in Maine. My visit to Maine became a walk through Cynthia’s garden.

Cynthia’s Garden

When the haze sweeps in,
I stop by Cynthia’s garden
to see the pink rose of Sharon
surprise with a bridal white.

Cynthia asks me in for tea,
a warm taste of sweet honey-orange spice.
On the center table,
sweet pea, Queen Anne’s lace, elderberry.

On the mantle, a photograph
of last winter’s snow, thick and unshoveled.
We look and sigh, knowing
this moment of surprise sweetness
is fleeting.

Her kitchen window looks out on the bay.
Colorful sails rise like kites
above crystal blue. We talk
about bunnies and blueberries
and boys who love to sleep
outside under the stars.

When the haze sweeps in,
I tell Cynthia goodbye
and hold her heart
like a poem I want to hear
again.

–Margaret Simon

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