While we are gone Spring will soliloquy while we’re away then collapse once again into that vortex of mystery where only the winged world has both privilege and privy to. And somehow we’ll carousel along with the sojourn of leaves sadly contorting into vague wisps of self with us on the outskirts where weeds ache with loneliness forsaken by worldly pretension yet at peace with the gift of exclusion.
When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting with macrame art. She volunteers in animal rescue, tending to cat colonies. She walks with a birding group on Sundays. Her work has appeared in Mad Swirl, Amethyst Review, Literary Veganism and other wonderful places. Her latest collection is “This water paint life,” published by Origami Poems Project.