Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Grandma's Picnic Table

Paint peeling, wood splitting,
flies swarming her trailer, sweltering heat
in that clay and lime town—

but, oh! the tart and bubbling rhubarb crisp,
the spicy-sweet hot mustard,
the savory scent
of the best, the best, fried chicken
any of us had ever eaten.

Poor—and rich—
all the difference
in the crinkle-cut corner
of her laugh-rippled eyes.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Monday, June 20, 2016

A Survivor's Credo

(and nature’s echo)

In spite of adversity, I will be
lavishly happy.

I won’t
bear the shame not mine.

I will not
punish myself
for the ugliness of another.

And, I will see
the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.

sunshine on wildflowers,
creek beds rippling coolly—
a doe bends, sips
she sighs heavily, light
with the headiness
of goodness after rain

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Wednesday, June 15, 2016


I’m not fond
of needles,

or needling
in general,

especially when
I’ve lain
on a bed of them.

So I will stick

to the kind
like pine, and

like space, ever
reaching skyward—

to thread
my life

with the hope
that never fails

to call my name.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Space Needle Image © 2016 Jennifer Wagner