Two Poems by Betsey Cullen

At Cheever

time moves
as slowly
as paint
peels from
clapboards,
as slowly
as barn spiders
dress monarchs
in silken thread,
as slowly
as White Mountains
shrug off ages past,
so slowly
I become
a wood thrush
at dusk



The Preserve

plastic fences
sprout
fresh
farmlands

bulldozers
churn
cornstalks
into mounds

yellow CATS
thrust
steel claws
into clay

vacant pipes
eye
a new crop
of estate homes

open
for visitors
@TollBrothers
.com

 

 

 

Betsey Cullen resides in West Chester, Pennsylvania. She views the natural world with reverence tempered with realism. Her work has appeared in two anthologies published by Kind of a Hurricane Press. She earned a B.A. from the University of Rochester and an M.A. from Cornell University and began writing poetry in retirement. She is married with two grown children and three granddaughters. She can be reached at ewcullen@yahoo.com.