Issue 3:2 | Poetry | Glenda Barrett

Two Poems by Glenda Barrett

Blackberry Winter

It happens every year

after the first lush blossoms

appear on the blackberry vines

when the first glimpse of the buds

make me forget the long days of winter.

It occurs about the time

I have the yearning

to browse through seed catalogs,

plant a flower bed,

and hoe in my garden.

This year the cold snap hit hard,

the lush blossoms wilted

and fell to the icy ground.

It happened to me too,

when I least expected it.

Like the white blossoms,

I too, wilted, and my heart

froze within a numb body,

For days, I stumbled along

and tried to make sense

of your last words.

“I’m leaving you.”

Winter Storm Warning

Curled in a ball,

I don’t dare move

lest I lose the place

my body has warmed,

beneath the five quilts

in a freezing bedroom,

where ice clings inside

and outside the windows.

The farmhouse

creaks and groans

as the howling wind

whips around its corners.

Outside, fragile pines

with iced over limbs

make a screeching sound

as they sway in the wind.

During the night,

I listen for your return.

In the morning, alone,

I shiver as my bare feet

hit the cold wood floor,

I wonder once again

how long I can survive

in a house without warmth.