Tag: nature
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poem: december 25, 2022
spellbound by sunsets and Christmas, I crouched / by the window of my old bedroom, overlooked / a field spilling over with weeds, then birds,
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dearly beloved
dearly beloved I miss morning light dappled across off-white pages of out-of-print poetry. I miss waking up to the blackbird’s songand the goose’s melancholic question. I miss ambling down the dirt road remainsof a lane once tread by Mary Janes ontheir way to the one-room schoolhouse. I miss giggling with the deer when theyappear like…
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Wild
On Wednesdays, I’ve taken to sitting in front of my window for two hours, seeking to dwell in the time between golden hour and sunset. The tree tops become drenched in honeycomb gold, and the orange blush of the horizon deepens into sienna hues, as if the sky were shy at heaven’s compliments of her…
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Poem: For Now
We watched the lightning show from my bedroom window, carmine and hibiscus dancing behind charcoal clouds,angelic hallelujah light. I scolded youfor being on your phone, but you were curiousabout gas excitation and electrons so,in retrospect, that was probably okay.Apparently lightning is five times hotterthan the sun, and Zeus is married to Hera,the goddess of childbirth…
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From the first page of summer’s journal
Just now a heron (a crane? a stork?) flew right over me as I stood by my window watching the dusk gather itself into evening, and I am at a loss for words to describe how it made me feel. As its form rose over the trees and turned to climb above the fields, I…
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collected thoughts, vii
Once, I thought a tiny tumbleweed was a groundhog with matted fur. Then it blew away. * Last week I revised an essay about love lost, love learned, and love rediscovered. It was a lot more emotionally exhausting to write than I thought it would be. I kept crying. Among many other things, the past…
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collected thoughts, v
It is blue hour now, the sky tinged with violet hues that ache with soft pink and washed-out yellow. * I stopped listening to Of Monsters and Men for several months last semester. In the midst of grief, of lamenting the necessity of goodbyes and see-you-laters, the melodies were too jarring. They made me cry.…
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collected thoughts, iv
Taking many solitary walks means learning how to identify birds by their call: oriole, robin, downy woodpecker, mockingbird, house finch. * One of my writing professors asked if I had attended any virtual church services. I said no, I hadn’t. * April 2 was the first day since March 11 where I woke up without…
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Day 29 – Divine
Two drunk and stuttering men sit on a bench at the outskirts of the woods. They flip the tabs off of too many beer cans, jeer at the passersby and chain smoke cigarettes. It’s raining. I hurry past with my resting don’t-mess-with-me face and catch myself judging them. They want to forget. Don’t we all?…
Eliana Chow 