By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, NC, USA
I used to think
it would last forever—
the swallows
coming home each year,
the green hills blossoming
on my path
one pure white feather
I carry with me
news of a dying planet,
a widening war
the bridge
across the creek—
I cannot see
the barred owl
calling from the other side
a water strider
dimples the surface,
an otter
rises and vanishes . . .
the stream flows on
spring beauties bloom
among tiny handprints
in the mud
I kneel on the bank
of the passing moment
~First published as the Afterword to A Worn Chest by Joy McCall & Tom Clausen, 2022
Reprinted in my book The Wind Harp: Tanka Pentads, 2023