Before Brunch

by Kristina Woodhill

The long walk
to our raspberry patch
on a cool morning
before I return
to house,
frees me;
my pj shorts
and flannel over-shirt
I pretend can pass
for decent,
in the back pasture
where few neighbors
think of their movies
in terms of previews
of scandalous ads
with hyped “My gosh!” coming events;
I stop off to crush
any squash bug
hiding under long come-hither boards
beside the surprised pumpkin vines,
delighted that they are still extant,
ponder my soul's salvation
if God reveals as a Very Big Bug
and angel wings
really are fluttering righteous cosmic flies,
or plump June bugs come to earth
I used to hold cupped
between two palms,
exploding giggles
from me
with frantic quick tickling
of their beating breeze;
I wander past rustling,
bushy beans not yet blossoming
but I note plenty
of pea pod strings pulled recently,
wondering at that time
if I might push out
a perfect pearl or two,
for all the time it takes,
and the human proclivity
for brushing sand
from between wandering toes,
catching at deeper hidden truths where it may


Posted on 07/08/2016
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/11/16 at 08:04 PM

Quite the visual piece, Kristina.

Posted by Don Matley on 07/13/16 at 09:19 PM

"push out a perfect pearl" says it all to me. Nice

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/12/16 at 12:52 PM

This ode confirms to me that person and place and even thing is everything. Given the perspective of where you are in conjunction with who you are, makes this poem dance in a way that my toes aren't crushed in the process of being its dance partner. You said it, Kristina, as only you can, and we all can assume after much toiling in the poetic fields, yield these words, easy as a breeze to live with.

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