search instagram arrow-down

Genres

best of HDtS editor's notes fiction interviews nonfiction poetry reviews

Archives by date

Archives by theme

Suddenly the trees have arms.
They bare all. So many nests
cleave to branches that twigs
and leaves weave baskets of sky.
Nothing spared is winter’s motto.
Even dead trees open doors
for more than I can tell,
their hollows full of paws
or wings quieted by dark.
Wind gusts whisper bare
tree stories branch to branch
to me. That’s what I imagine.
Riven woods make room
for hushed things biding time
and breathing. Fur and feathers rise
and fall. I see one shy eye
which opens me. I think the rings
in trees are promises I’ll keep
when winter comes, burying
all with that cold clench of doubt,
that such testament is now mine.

 


Elinor Ann Walker teaches writing online at the University of Maryland-University College. She’s published scholarly work but considers herself a recovering academic. Her poems (also under “Ann Walker Phillips”) have appeared in Poet Lore, The Christian Science Monitor, Cicada, Rosebud, Mezzo Cammin, Soundzine, and in the anthology Stone Renga. She lives in Tennessee with four dogs and her family and spends as much time as possible by her pond.

© 2018, Elinor Ann Walker

Leave a Reply
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: