Issue Forty-Four - Summer 2024

Without Dark, Would We See the Light?

By Linda Conroy

I think of lilies, flowers of the earth,
still fragrant, winsome,

each sight a bead in the chain of my belief,
though often times I toil

and spin and ponder, prune,
prevaricate in want and greed and guilt.

Who knows what might happen soon,
a mystery awkward as the blueprint

of a storm. When trees turn grey
in rain’s downpour, we might try to run,

do something careless, desperate,
but as sun casts shafts across the farthest hill

we’ll stand and wait and watch,
joined by the soul to all of this, and that.

Copyright 2024 Conroy