Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts

Sunday, June 22, 2025

The Last Emerald Summer

 

The last emerald summer

popped hot in the pan—

buttery, like sweet corn and tomatoes,

 

like the last sultry twilight

I spent waiting for your heart to choose.

 

Even when the first leaves fell,

my eyes were on the evergreens

still convinced it would never snow.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

Poetic Bloomings #547 Meant to Last

 

Thursday, June 19, 2025

Van Ghosted

 

They say there’s much you can do with

stale bread.

 

Panzanella, bruschetta, crostini.

Croutons, bread pudding.

 

How like spring,

new and fresh, it goes quickly,

 

and then, the blistering oven

of summer is here.

 

But, how do you salvage a poem, like sunrise,

so fleeting you can never seem to catch it in time?

 

Like manna.

Here and gone.

 

I saw it today, etched into the glass of a window

with an epitaph:

 

Your wings were ready, but my heart was not.

I see how it is. 

 

I glimpsed you briefly, soft-robed phantom,

boarding a train to somewhere else,

 

orphaned, like my last vanished poem,

not a breadcrumb in sight,

 

on into the starry night.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Word Garden Word List

dVerse OLN

 

"Your wings were ready, but my heart was not." - Amelia Hutchins

 

When you just don’t jot it down in time.  Know the feeling?  Maybe it will return, when it, and I, am ready. ;)

 

Sunday, March 30, 2025

the home run birthday gift

 
summer that year was a beauty
dry and hot
we pulled our hair back in ponytails
licked popsicles
and sipped water
in between games
dandelions bloomed like promises
in the outfield

it was better than my first kiss
when i got it
less sloppy,
more dirty—
savored spent-breath,
sweaty, flush, and beaming—
the green gleaming

and i don’t remember 
anything else 
i got that scrap-
book year, except the spotlight 
of my cleats
leaving a dusty outline planted
like petals on home plate 
 
© 2025 jennifer wagner 
 
poetic bloomings
shay’s word garden word list
sunday whirl
 

Wednesday, March 19, 2025

Feline Equinox Prophet of Summer in Arizona

 

He survives on rats and pool water,

evades coyotes and heat,

and taunts our Siamese through the patio door.

 

He’s not quite John the Baptist,

eating locusts and wild honey,

but that fur looks like

it could have been nicked from a camel,

clumps dyed white and black.

 

And, he does have that dry, warning, desert-y voice, too—

calling out, Phoenix, get your shit together—

it’s about to rain fire.  One Who is coming

is mightier than Spring.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

What’s Going On?  Equinox:  Signs of Spring