Poetry

Joanne Grumet

Happiness

is the small lizard that
lets me watch him up close

Sunning himself on the porch,
his chest pulses with life

His needle-fine nails hold on

He moves when I turn away
and then you are gone

and then you are gone

When darkness reached out from under the pine

When darkness reached out from under the pine
and the path was hidden away in fright
I lost my footing in some tangled vines.

The grass that June was perfumed with thyme
but something that day was not quite right
and darkness reached out from under the pine

Slowing his steps he sat for a time
and when I saw him in this plight
I lost my footing in some tangled vines

Nothing to do but stop our climb
as the frogs jumped away in fright
and darkness reached out from under the pine.

In the forest of grief I missed the signs
how to manage in day-turned -to -night
and I lost my footing in some tangled vines.

When the moan of the mourning dove combined
with the flap of her wings in frenzied flight
when darkness reached out from under the pine
I lost my footing in some tangled vines.