Magnet poems

The first poem is the kind of message I like to hear from the oracle. The second is rather more sibylline…


Tendrils of summerscreen-shot-2017-01-07-at-12-09-40

climb into gentle night,

leaving dawn to follow

with a rustle of rose boughs,

sweet as the breeze

wandering over lake water.



Wild winter breathes a spring songscreen-shot-2017-01-07-at-12-32-02

above this frost-blanketed earth,

falling dark as root,

climbing with the vine.

Only the seed listens

to the moon,

and withered roses bloom.



Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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