Laura Denny
Self Portrait
I am as gentle as sunlight
on the rough bark of a tree.
It could be a hoax,
but I don’t think so. I am unsure
of my face in the bathroom mirror.
I am a cricket on a twig
in the river, singing.
I am a field of wild grass,
with heavy seed heads
bowing in the wind. I hum
I hum to the slow movement
of the dark clouds, gorgeous
and ghostlike, as I wait
for the sun to strike through,
to fall across this field
with its stark slant light. I am
I am the purple shadow of sorrow
cast by a mountain. I am comfortable
with all the sadness that lives in me
and stretches across the landscape
of my life. I am the unbidden joy
that comes in the morning.
Please Do Not Park the Wow
Especially
in the bleakest of times
the Wow longs to be seen
It's the Milky Way
in the desert
a waxing moon
at dawn, the light
in the center
of a morning glory
and how the trees
speak a language of their own
and lean towards the sun
It’s also you, my love
and all the light and dark
that lives in you
The world wants
your Wow moving through it
as a witness to its wonder
Laura Denny is a retired educator who lives in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. She is a docent for Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. Her poetry has appeared in One Art, January House Literary Journal, Does It Have Pockets, Remington Review, Pictura Journal, and Sunlight Press, among others.
