October 2024
Doug Brown
dwbrown49@gmail.com
Bio Note: My writing seems to be a season behind the printing of Verse-Virtue. Perhaps all the seasons contain the other three. Except this summer has been all dry heat. I hope you all have a kind autumn...and hopefully cooler air. I do appreciate reading everyone's work each month.

Simmering Soup

Writing
In this compact room with two windows;
Sun light moves across the pale
Green walls the color of a luna moth.
Perhaps in a few years I may see clearly
What was written today.  Understanding
Seems to lag composition.  Yet, 
Mercifully, there are moments when lightening bugs
Glimmer and open a dull eye.

It could happen like this:
One day in the kitchen,
Following a morning of writing,
Stirring a pot of soup, inhaling a humid
Garden air around the pot’s simmering,
The heart may stop
And I fall to the wood floor.
No time, no desire to:  Check today’s work?  
Revisions to be made?  Wash clothes.

A rose set in a chipped azure vase,
Ants walk the yellow wilderness
Reaching the distant wood sill; amazed,
Watching their circuitous trail outline
A vast, ineffable new season that is already here.

She Suspects God Near

Eyes retreat from a printed page.
A brilliant sun leaping and dancing
Upon a holly tree; quicksilver leaves
And deep dark in-between
This late summer, late afternoon.
An advent of shifting seasons.
A breeze passes, the woods whisk a blue sky.

A pileated woodpecker calls, to whom
Or conveying what remains unknown
And unneeded in this moment.
Simply sound and sight emerge.
The tricolor bird navigates
With apparent confidence and ease.
Trees do not impede flight.

©2024 Doug Brown
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL