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Moss

  

Moss


It was me.

 

I cut the tree that

you couldn’t hear falling.

You were

 

too far away.

 

Closer now,

I am calling to you.

Can you hear?

 

I will wait for you, wait

for your answering call,

wait amid these leaves

and branches,

wait

 

Roots may form,

still I will wait.

Moss can grow, wait,

I will wait.

 

What will I hear?

 

Michael A. Griffith

 

Michael A. Griffith teaches at Raritan Valley and Mercer County Community Colleges in central NJ. He is the author of three chapbooks of poetry, Bloodline; Exposed; and New Paths to Eden. Two of these, Bloodline and Exposed, are available in eBook format from Soma Publishing. Mike facilitates a monthly poetry workshop for the Princeton Public Library and is a board member of the Delaware Valley Poets/US 1 Poets. Recent work appears in Ariel Chart, Haiku Journal, Kelsey Review, North of Oxford, Page & Spine, and the anthology book Floored

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1 Comments

  1. Ironic. metaphoric. symbolic. all three like a literature lesson for the audience. not familiar with your work but i am now.

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