Marsh Morning
As the sun rises, mist hangs above the marsh
as though ocean climbed high in the night,
as though great seas cover mighty flames,
as though troubles must be drowned.
Tall goldenrod and purple loosestrife sit low
in the tide, as though to hide their colors,
as though to hang on to good fortune,
the sun, and bravery of the seasons.
for the 3rd and final stanza, see Tiny Seed Journal
Two Poems: Coriander for Love & Inescapable Pull of the Moon on Mezzo-Cammin, July 2024
”From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity” in McQueens Quinterly, v23.. (Title is quote from Edvard Munch.) It begins:
The iron shackle clamps one leg, its short heavy chain nailed to a boulder. The old brown bear slashes his front paw through the river, snags a large trout. Jolted back toward land, he slowly eats.
For More Than Fifty Years… in Silver Birch Press. It begins:
As she had for more than fifty years
since she was married, his sister sat cross-legged
on her blanket-covered charpoy in a front room
in India to prepare for the evening meal.
I saw her pluck small methi leaves from hundreds of stems,
her green pile slowly rising
Lavinia Kumar – poetry, science, books, art 