The starlings lifted again in unison, flew past the evergreen, and I thought maybe they’d take you a message, in a way they did, because I’m writing this now, and you are reading it. - Jennifer Goldring
“Writers must write.” It’s true. As a writer, I am compelled to share my words with the world. It’s not just about others hearing my voice, but being a voice for those without one.
A few poems…
When all else failed
by Jennifer Goldring
I wanted to be avian, to need to fly in order to eat.
I wanted to swoop down, dip the lake and rise;
talons full of fish. Slippery with life and slippery
with death. I’d love the first thing I grasped
I’d land and pin the catch with claws
and rip at the soft belly. Push the indent
of the flailing fish. Now gutted. Liner red
entrails, grey stone of want, yellow bile leaking
and the beautiful cornflower look of the gills.
I’d peck those delicately. Wash of lust
on my beak and sated or perhaps just satisfied
I’d lift again to the sky with a screech,
with the pumping of wings and heart in rhythm,
with an awareness of even the most subtle wind.
Walking Along Euclid in Early Spring
by Jennifer Goldring
Tonight, the moon sits in the sky orange
and sliced like cantaloupe.
A woman stands on tiptoe head tilted up,
her tongue tip on her lip, arms open
to that mysterious fruit in the sky.
She is trying to take a bite and though
she knows it is beyond her reach she will
always salivate and ache for this juicy moon.
The soft glow draws the gnat and lace-wing
from the grass. The small gray bats dart above
the blooming dogwoods and feast.