Tuesday, April 9, 2013

A Poem by Marianne Szlyk

Winter into Spring

Across the skim of ice,
the trees are bare fingers
in the grating wind.

The bittersweet berry
fades far past
the orange of carrots.
The leaves left on the vine
darken to brown.


The fog inflates
and expands
over the pond.

Walk away.
The fog lifts.
Branches glisten.
Lichen clings.


The wind across the pond
no longer grates
on bare-fingered trees.

Walk slowly
this time.

Yellow and purple
crocuses rise up
like mushrooms
after rain.
New mulch sours the air.
Marianne Szlyk is an assistant professor of English at Montgomery College, Rockville as well as an associate editor at the Potomac Review. Her poems have been published in the Antigonish Review, the Linden Avenue Literary Journal, Atrium, Eos: The Creative Context, and Aberration Labyrinth. Other poems may appear soon in the Ishaan Literary Review.

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