Carrying

 

Only a toddler, you carried the

long brussel sprouts stalk around

the farmer’s market hugging it

showing everyone its beauty

 

as gratitude ran through you

from across an ocean you

couldn’t see or know

 

from women who tended

to the purple of eggplants

the yellow of limoncello

they drank up flavors

from the pouring sun

 

following you as you doted

on your thriving bulbous reed

 

refusing to let me take it

from you, maybe worried by

the thought of taking it out

of your life

 

while you were still

feasting on the shoots and

streams of your

cultivators

 

 

Tuned Out

​

The forest has gone

bird silent even though

we have poured water

into grandfather’s

cool stone bath

 

I have to ask

 

where are you

 

have we spent

too many

days forgetting

to listen

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Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. She has been published in several journals including The Bluebird Word, and The Agape Review.  Recently Susan has had poems accepted for Last Stanza Poetry Journal, Ekstasis, The Bookends Review, Poetry Breakfast, and in four anthologies.

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