R. Charboneau
Tag: Art
In the valley
lightning coiled
downward
revealing us
inside the
Earth’s bore,
the rusted trees
In autumn
rightward,
the sea’s brass glint
to our east
scattered,
where valved thunder
played loudly
within.
R. Charboneau
Did Spring relent her blossoming sending
hoarfrost late on unripened cherries?
Did she fertilize her stillborn bushels,
caramelize her green bulbs like lollipops
so bloom and harvest could become one garden
of unpicked crops and unrung peal of bells?
She did not lament with rainshower that month
the loss of a single orchard of my cherries,
only she must carry on her season
in abundance, with nothing left undone.
