by Marjorie Moorhead
Upright and tight fisted. Poised to release. Each pink peony bud, potential enclosed; vitality condensed. In June, solstice coming, each will open, spill forth beauty and fragrance like fireworks; bright booming blooms. Then, weighty petals flutter down pooling on garden ground; stems arching in summer's night, making way for the next sweet thing. ____
Marjorie Moorhead: I am writing from northern New England, and my work is very connected to the geography and changing seasons. I am a survivor of the early AIDS epidemic (before treatment), and my work often looks at ways of survival. I have two chapbooks, Survival: Trees, Tides, Song and Survival Part 2: Trees, Birds, Ocean, Bees, and am represented in many different anthologies, and on several literary sites. I meet regularly with a small group of poets from the area, although we’ve been zooming since the pandemic. Same with a women’s prompt writing circle. I am a mother, wife, daughter, birdwatcher, walker who hopes to keep growing as a poet person. Read more of Marjorie’s work here.