Glimmers
Glimmers
Glimmers
by Ger Duffy
The window’s glimmer of ice haunts the room.I make hot tea, contemplate the frost tipped skiprattle of dry leaves, air inside, sharp as glass.The beech tree almost bare, holds her skirt of leaveslike a girl about to dance.
There were glimmers — when I was arrestedby a voice, a chance remark, a lick at joy,my chest unlocked, spilling a box of bright coins.
All poets know to conceal our desires so we cannot be pinioned like butterflies,trapped on a page.
But don’t we all want to join in the dance?
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Featured in our April 2023 issue, "Curiosity"