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Cover art by Lyla Wren Wilson

Spring stayed late and turned a cold shoulder
on the night shades. Black krim tomatoes, ping
tung eggplant and mosco peppers left stunted
and shivering on damp evenings. They get all
the love most years anyhow.

I root for more quiet others -the discounted
johnathon apple trees. We may never taste
their fruit but they are the hope for shade

And for the owlets, three, awkward, large
with down, fledging from the Siberian elms,
in the custody of their parents. Bobbing
and flopping from branch to tree, eventually
to glide soundless across the playfield,
turned wild with prairie aster,
black medic, and bindweed.

With the mischief of magpies, the murder
of crows, we were not surprised to hear
from the neighbor that she’d found an owl,
dead. We knew the one.

Still, somewhere between the dragging night
and the pink of morning, in half-sleep,
I hear the owl siblings ask,
who, who roots for you?

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Jennifer Ann Dennehy © 2024

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Cover design by author 

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a knuckle-like sprout
unfolds in near audible
silence towards the sun.

eager and wind-strong,
the burgeoning vine becomes
the night’s acquaintance.

wide parasol leaves
shelter flounce skirted blossoms
as they flirt with bees.

. 

eager and wind strong,
the burgeoning vine becomes
the night’s acquaintance.

wide parasol leaves
shelter flounce skirted blossoms
as they flirt with bees.

tendril-set-fruit keep
the company of crickets,
care-worn vines persist.

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Jennifer Ann Dennehy © 2024