I go to the woods, the forest, the place where trees grow. I go there to find the leaves of maple trees. The trees are tightly spaced, and the leaves packed between the tangled tree roots. What should I do with that? Make a metaphor? Pretend I know what I’m talking about? I go to the maples,…
Category: poetry
Five Things That Scare Me
1. It isn’t death that scares me. You think it would be at the top of the list but it’s too vague. I insist on something more tangible. A late night phone call, a stranger at the door. Knives. Today snow falls fast and persistent, as if it will cover the ground, as if it…
Joy. I don’t know exactly what it is. Maybe its sun after a long bout of rain, the warmth after winter or my son’s hands working the knots out in my tangled wet hair. We sit on the front porch right after school and talk. He finds me there when he comes down the driveway…
dmerickson.com 