I miss shaking a newspaper,
folding it closed, washing
black ink from my fingers,
feeling accomplished before
moving on with my day.
Instead, I hopscotch a crazy-quilt —
CNN. BBC. MSNBC. Fox. Round
and round, site to site and back,
never washing the stain
of sad news from my heart. Continue reading
All the flowers, poems
cards, and teddy bears
left on sidewalks
after someone died
somehow
don’t fill
the painful void
where a person
we loved
once lived.
Only progress
toward justice
can ease the pain.
A little.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
June came late,
after May rains slanted,
and gardens were planted. Continue reading
A world
afire with color
and rage
against those
who don’t see
color
as beautiful
as precious
as connected
to all of us.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
On the edge of a knife,
words sustain my life,
address
my stress
and lessen household strife.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Continue reading
time to bloom
when the sunshine calls,
let loose
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
The scent of spring soil,
wet and loamy,
is the scent of beginnings,
of hope and faith. Continue reading
rain-soaked soil squelches,
toad high-hops, hip-hoppity,
among green shoots
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
my mother’s birthday
missing her, feeling alone
yellow butterfly
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Even in the clouds,
I see paths
drawing me
toward them.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Seeing the same four walls
in this endless
pandemic confinement,
but imagining far fields,
wildflowers bobbing,
waterfalls singing, Continue reading
