To a Tee (An Abecedarian by a Quinquagenarian)

 

 

The way we coax the weight from one another’s shoulders,

understand the end of the depths of our strengths,

void our swollen aches, carry together our

weariness.  You and me—

 

xerophytes if there ever were.  Tough and wiry

yellow-never

zacatons

abiding in hope,

bending enough to avoid the break.

 

Choosing to choose each other—

deciding to,

even in the

fight.  Saying

 

good night, and meaning it,

hands cupped around the last light

in case it really is

just like that—because you never

know.

 

Leaning in to steady each other

mostly since we’ve grown

not

old, but gold.

 

Plus, we’ve never looked sharper—with our

quick wits and silver foxiness,

right?  You and me, to a tee, like the kids used to

slang—

tight.

 

 

© 2026 Jennifer Wagner

 

Written for Laura’s dVerse Abecedarian challenge

OLN

 

Photo © Jennifer Wagner

passionflower

 

 

like winter sun warming the crisp outline

of evergreens on frost’s last kiss,

 

like an impression of stars

bursting in indigo nightframe,

 

like orion, swift-slaying, swaying

between boughs,

 

she is electric, blue-jazz summer sky,

ricocheting

 

with all the fierce beauty

of a flowering storm

 

 

© 2026 jennifer wagner

 

q44: flower

 

photo © jennifer wagner, from las noches de las luminarias, desert botanical garden, phoenix, az

winter cheer

 

 

punxsutawney phil

said there’ll be more winter chill—

 

but around here

there’s winter cheer and (root)beer,

 

tell that mole—

‘cause hawks are going to the super bowl

 

 

© 2026 jennifer wagner

 

poetic bloomings #580: relative cold

 

photo © ian wagner