Monday, February 8, 2016

Weather Eye

When you left
I swore off hunting

for reasons I wasn't
good enough.

Now, here I am,
pike and pole,

keeping a
weather eye

in case you come back
to remind me.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Wing and Wind

Mama chestnut-backed chickadee
flew in our 70's window
and landed on our
scarlet, gold and green rug.

After a few moments
she sputter-flew up to the windowsill,
as I held my breath, hoping
she could see her escape.

At last, I urged, Go, little girl---

and she lit out,
quick as wing and wind could carry,
while I
peered at the question of sky,

as I do now,
heart throbbing,
wings trembling,
for wherever the wind might take me.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Poet's Pen Strokes


She was born
with a bottle
of blue darkness
inside her.

When the light
the glass,
shafts of light

the container,

the darkness
inky arms,

stretching through,
reaching out/into
she is, she's been, has yet to see

and exits
on pages

needing both dark and light
to come
to be.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner