I’m not done drowning, myself:
It’s September but the crepe
myrtle’s raspberry sundae syrup
is still streaming in its pool
of shade in the corner, always the
coolest, the deepest in the yard;
and the starry white clematis has
huzzah! triumphed up and over
the trumpet vine on this side
to cascade her springwhite delicacy
above amber leaves that float
down the breeze like warnings;
and the hummingbird that faced me
through the patio glass one morning,
like I somehow deserved the gift
of a good long look at him,
still plunges into the orange trumpets
of the vine that won that side;
and the goldfinch pair seek their
analog again, bouncing on the
tall stems of yellow echinacea
like diving boards before headfirsting
into the flowers, seeding themselves.
I’m not done drowning myself.
—
Heidi Mordhorst publishes regularly for both adults and children, most recently in Entre Magazine of the Arts Vol. 2. She taught in primary classrooms for 37 years and has been on the NCTE Excellence in Poetry Award Committee and a Cybils Award Judge. She’s now a Teaching Artist with the Maryland State Arts Council and her organization WHISPERshout Writing Workshop and lives with her wife in Silver Spring.
