Vicissitudes – a poem by Janet Krauss


The large motherly hand of the hemlock
ushers the breeze as a guest onto the porch.
I ignore the tree’s allusion to death
and Socrates.  Instead, I am drawn
to the spread of its wide branches.
The leaves look and feel like infants’ fingers,
the green that of newborn spring.
But at night the tree slips into a robe
black as obsidian that blocks my view
of star-strung Orion.  I move away
beyond the hemlock to find my place
to watch Orion begin his journey
across the sky.  He has all the room in space.
He does not know his fate.
We both are content to wait.

Janet Krauss, who has two books of poetry published, Borrowed Scenery, Yuganta Press, and Through the Trees of Autumn, Spartina Press, has recently retired from teaching English at Fairfield University. Her mission is to help and guide Bridgeport’s  young children through her teaching creative writing, leading book clubs and reading to and engaging a kindergarten class. As a poet, she co-directs the poetry program of the Black Rock Art Guild.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s