An Interlude by Sally Cook

whitegar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was the stream and she the underbrush,

The rain that fell upon his upturned face.

She was the shadowed glade in evening’s hush

That, blotting out the sun, absorbed its grace.

She was the sea, and he the wavering shore—

The harvest moon that hung above her door.

 

A thousand stars crowded to hold one thought

When similes, comparisons were all

That she was left with after she was taught

That streams dry up, butt up against a wall

Where tangled roots are tripped upon in haste.

Sweet woodruff, poison ivy, interlaced.

_______________________________________

For more from Sally Cook, and a bio, go here.

The painting, “White Garden, Emily Dickinson,” was created by the poet while a Wilbur Fellow in 1986.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s