Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/URaZrRvKQqM) 14.08.2022.
Sam, Lisa, and Henry David
Sam and Lisa warmed nigh Henry David’s fireplace. Walden was winter quiet.
In fact, in all Concord, only foolhardy souls braved the cold
(Children remain regarded as “rash,” even “reckless.”)
In summer, though, there was no ice on the pond thru which Sam espied fishes.
Yet, none surfaced. None sang. Henry blubbered. Lisa wept
(Impulsivity’s the province of snowflakes, not sun.)
Vernal/autumnal hours never counted. Fields, multihued leaves, sundry wealth
Distracted teens and adult forging shoots, leaves, umbel tops
(Expended most thoughts of tarn or hearth.)
Still, juveniles sprout, grownups age. Too many seasons greeted no guests, no
Visitors for Emerson’s friend, that “different drummer”
(Ripening transcends links.)
About the Author: KJ Hannah Greenberg has been playing with words for an awfully long time. Hannah’s had more than forty books published and has served as an editor for several literary journals. Hannah writes about: Judaism, parenting, imaginary hedgehogs, and starfaring, polycephalic, gelatinous wildebeests.
