Tempo
Teresa Loesch
Winter is relief
the richness of harvest
dissolving into
minimalism
my KonMari soul
like a toad in
the thick mud at the bottom
of a pond.
survival is the only standard
staggering through holidays
each curl of light a post in the dark
wake up on jan 2
i am a success
Spring takes what she wants
no joy just tempo
driving digging
heating growing
bursting to ripen
my heart beats
the first thump since November’s
early snow
sap thrums in trees and in
me
pins and pine needles strike all over
growth that feels like
aching hips widening at 12
and crying myself to sleep
with wisdom sprouting
from my jaws
my soul swims out of the pond
back to my bedroom
tracking muck and complications
life lessons
settling in my chest when i was only
trying to sleep
Cauldron Anthology
49