Wait now. The wind silenced.
Cupped palms of dogwood suspended,
arms outstretched to catch the sky.
All blue.
Iris, forget-me-not.
And the greening of April, the thatch
of hostas winding through. Just now.
The wait long—the moment ineffable.
Linda M. Fischer’s poetry is widely published in the small press. Active for many years with the Mad Poets Society and nominated twice for a Pushcart Prize, she has published two collections of her work, Raccoon Afternoons and Glory. She lives in Swarthmore; her website is lindamfischer.com.