Deborah E Cox Poems

To carve a walking stick means to turn your back,
pack away the pause of last night in the sermon of now
find the forward universe in motion and soft footsteps,
...

Heavy-cloud turmoil
I wander outside to assess
post-storm damage
...

Not Red-wings or Cardinals, but
Blackbirds, squadron ranks
of quick-flitting, V formation
...

They bought this edge-of Fifteen Mile Pond
to “get away from things, ” swim unencumbered
in green blue pool, explore Black Walnut copse,
trade city-bound encroachments for peace
...

things that cause me to pause and
to hold my breathe
and remember
the poetry of exhaling
...