Naomi Shihab Nye has famously said that “poems hide…What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.” I often find inspiration in images, and when I saw this photo on Twitter recently, I knew a poem was hidden within:
What I didn’t expect was where this poem would take me. Which is, after all, the point of writing.
At a bend in the trail
I freeze, startled
by an upturned mushroom.
I’m at your kitchen table,
wisps of morning breeze,
rich with melodies of songbirds,
drifting in through wide-open windows
as you set an ancient flow-blue
bowl before me.
Nestled within its chipped rim
are glistening blueberries,
which you rose at dawn
making sure to leave a few
for the birds.
© Catherine Flynn, 2018
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