Boticelli on a half shell


by Lawrence Hopperton

Redline-horizon bares trees,

bares morning frosted tipped

springtime gardens, unfinished.

Frost-wilted edges overnight

 

into daylight in your left eye

driving south. Sleep. Get ready.

Pail the gutters down the ladder,

clean the yard - shift rocks, dig

 

gardens, rake branches together

trim twigs, weed for cautious petals,

tentative steps. Trilliums

germinate, cedar and wild rose,

 

maples led tall; tulips break.

The grass is short for this ruddy

lawnmower with black wheels.

Children laugh the next yard down.

 

It’s ordinary. Like Tuesday morning

Or Sunday. Hawks circle charcoal

roads, brown furrows, windbreaks,

Boticelli breasts and swaddled mons.

 

We narrow paths to this glade

with bare patches seeded with fescue,

watered deep, again when it soaks

knuckle deep. Cell packs, may-seed,

 

dapple spider structures tether

gossamer, flower-naps. Tonight

we light our candles, enough

for cards and bower bravado.

 

Lanterns burn steady and low;

the fire burns hot, burns low

like summer nights and stars:

it breathes wiles and candles.

 

Your eyes are coal.

Your skin is smooth.

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Writers Bio

Lawrence Hopperton lives in Stouffville Ontario. Former editor of the University of Toronto Review, and founding editor of Nimbus Press, his poetry has been published internationally, most recently in the Fifth Lummox, Sirsee, and Sheila-Na-Gig. He has published two chapbooks, Songs of Orkney and Other Poems in 1983, and  Ptolley Bay in 2013. In his other life, he is Director of Distributed Learning for Tyndale University College and Seminary.


Inspirational ImageGreen in the Woods by Ashley Parker Owens by Ashley Parker Owens

Pieces Inspired by this Image

'A Blade of Grass Between Two City Stones'
by Mark Blickley

'Green Rain'
by Joan McNerney

'I’ve never written a poem about trees…'
by Diana Manole


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