by Patricia Fargnoli
They rose up from the riverbank
bending their dark shapes over the water
like pillars that had been leaning too long
in the sun and wanted to rest.
And yes the river was lovely in its long
feline flowing over and around the river stones.
But the trees were splendid in their own right
shaking their beads, pasting glitter around their cheeks,
and oh how they fell, loosening their roots
swooning into the moving water,
which carried them on its back downstream,
their voices reverberating along the airways,
promising their lovers
before long they would return.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Patricia Fargnoli is an award-winning American poet and retired psychotherapist. She was the New Hampshire Laureate from December 2006 to March 2009. Fargnoli's books of poetry include Necessary Light (Utah State University Press, 1999), winner of the May Swenson Book Award; Lives of Others (Oyster River Press, 2001); Small Songs of Pain (Pecan Grove Press, 2003); Duties of the Spirit (Tupelo Press, 2005) which won the Jane Kenyon Literary Award for Outstanding Poetry by a New Hampshire poet, and most recently, Then, Something, (also from Tupelo Press, 2009) which won the 2009 Foreword Review Best of the Year Silver Award in Poetry, and was an Honorable Mention for the 2009 Eric Hoffer Award in Poetry. Her poems have appeared in magazines and literary journals including Poetry, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, The Indiana Review, Mid-American Review, Nimrod, and others.
Last updated January 05, 2012