Hope
Posted by Zoe on Jul 9th, 2015 in Poetry, Published Poetry
Tomatoes on the kitchen sill
soften side by side,
still attached by a vestigial vine.
Supposedly there to ripen in the sun—
but there hasn’t been sun for months—
instead they catch the diffuse glow
of rain falling so slow
it might as well be standing still.
Light teased from a million droplets
by patient fronds of moss
infects plump red skins
with a subtle gleam
of longing.
Later, I cut one open
and find tiny green shoots
sprouting from its seeds.
(Previously published in Poems from Planet Earth Anthology, 2013)
Merritt, B.C.
Posted by Zoe on Jul 19th, 2014 in Cross-Country Poetry Swap
The town of Merritt seemed empty and quiet, but the campground outside it was full of travelers. I left this poem on a park bench next to a gorgeous little creek.