Soaked

by Emily Benson

Rainwater piles up at the foundation
Melting the mud and clay 
Into treacherous sinkholes
The branches of the Live Oak are slick and green,
Dripping, ball moss sprouts ferocious tendrils
While the vibrant rooster of mysterious origins
Which appeared two days ago
Hides from this late-winter deluge
And the raccoons on the roof are quiet in the chill nights
Down by the wild rushing creek
The prickly pears gulp what they can
But the little lime lizards are nowhere to be seen
Not enough heat in their rocks without sun
And while the swans with their great white wings
Glide the lake unconcerned,
The pigeons and I are miserable


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Emily Benson (she/her) writes poems of humanity, longing, and nature. She lives in Western New York with her husband and two sons. Ms. Benson has previously been published by The Esthetic Apostle, Unstamatic, Airlie Press, Five Minutes, High Shelf Press, Sad Girls Club Literary Blog, and in Hey, I’m Alive Magazine. Her work can be found at www.emilybensonpoet.com.

Published
Categorized as Poetry