Friday, April 1, 2011


my hiding place
stood silent
I climbed up
sat in the fork of two limbs
reached for blue sky
in our old oak tree

a purple cover
adorned with sisters
vivid sunlight through branches
wind honeysuckle sweet
a sparrow alights up high
she sings to me

Jo high in her garret
me on a leafy perch
an apple each and some ink
a jumble of words
tears on the page
wondering just how things will be


Tom Ryan said...

it is all a matter of wonder...

Beth said...

Oh, yes, I often thought of Jo when I was up in my treehouse, too. That's a piece of synchronicity. So glad you're writing these poems!