The day’s outside emptiness
moves inside, scratches
my skin. I sleep—mute.
At the window, sticks
moan and sway.
Gravel kicks up, splatters
rotting clapboard.
I refuse to rise. The sky settles
grey, not even daybreak
halts the enveloping chill.
Somedays sadness is upon me,
an ancient, frayed quilt, spitting
plumes, the weight of it
wrapped heavy
around my shoulders.
Other days joy, light
as a pine needle, floats
upon a downy,
crystalline sea.
Blue overcomes haze,
mornings boast shadows
and white birch––
I admire the shape
of leafless trees, silhouettes
cast on melting snow,
syrup slogging
through untangled tubes,
while I balance
precariously between
slick, muddy ruts.
A hollow beside the Green Mountain National Forests, Vermont.
“Balancing Act” was previously published in Wilderness House Literary Review, April 1, 2022
A lifelong New Englander, Laurie Rosen’s poetry has appeared in The Muddy River Poetry Review; Parks & Points; Soul-Lit; The Poetry of Nature, Vita Brevis Press Volume 111; Better Than Starbucks; Gyroscope Review and elsewhere.
