Poetry can be like this—
blueberry stains on my fingers
from shoving them straight
from the bush to my mouth
—blackberries, too.
Seeing six rotting oranges
sitting underneath a tree—
hoping they smell good
to what crawls below.
The desert cottontail,
a perfect Russel Stover,
who froze still in the sun
when I stepped lightly by—
nothing but nose twitching.
A box full of free grapefruits
on the road
in front of the cottage house—
heavy, ripe, uneven.
The new puppy, dancing,
learning a leash, excited
to come to me—still unsure
which of us wanted to play more.
A Great Blue Heron
with long, delicate legs,
sleek and slow-hunting
at our green-gold pond.
I say our,
because it’s yours, too—
as is this journey-poem, for you to add
your own lovely thing to.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
“Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,
It is not far—
It never will be far.”
-Sara Teasdale