thirty-year-old letters . . .
the fresh scent
of pine seedlings
springing up in the clear cut
—Jenny Ward Angyal
Issue 15.2 | 13 November 2015
Very nice. I can smell all the different scents of the forest. The old, decayed leaves and the fresh new ones.
Pain and optimism so beautifully juxtaposed. I was moved.
old love letters
at last my name
in his handwriting
I love the imagery you use here. I've been lately discarding decades-old letters and cards
I love the imagery you use. I've been lately discarding decades-old letters and cards, too. They're not mine, but I do believe I detect that same fresh scent.
This is a phenomenal poem. I also was moved.
Beautiful, Jenny. Great use of the sense of smell in this one.
Beautifully crisp tanka!
* * *
the longest night
of a longer day
our broken moons
a lost email
Brass Bell: Alan Summers
issue of brass bell, featuring poems by Alan Summers (July 2015)
Good one, Jenny.
I love each line here!
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