Margaret Ann Newcomb Poems

If trust were a material thing,
solid and concrete,
there would be huge
boxes of it in the attic
...

The smell of engine oil and butane
remind me of my father.
A zippo lighter that says 'clink'.
On my bike his fishing kreel
...

Shadows wrap around a tree.
A spoon bends in a glass
of sunlit water.
Freshly picked tomatoes scent your hands and
...

If I remember to be
in this moment, every moment,
it is then that life is perfect.
As it is meant to be.
...

We're back together once again,
with eighteen years between.
I was never out of love with you,
now all those years redeemed.
...

The kelp, strong and gentle
does not fight the current.
It bends and sways and
bows to passers by.
...

Closing eyes soflty
in the moment of no thing
now quiet begins
...

I gaze across the river
to the trees up on Mt. Hood.
A pair of birds greet
the warm morning sun.
...

The water moves around you,
no space between it
and your skin.
As if it knows you.
...