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As We See It


Gayle Boss This morning, stepping outside, I noticed my first tulips beside the front door. Or rather, their absence. Yesterday morning I thought that after one of the coldest Aprils on record and after last night's warm rain, I would finally see blooming the tulips I had painstakingly planted last October. I would see their tight green fists relax, like a magician opening his clenched hand to show the colorful silk inside—red, orange and pink, yellow. Instead, green nubs at…
Gayle Boss
March 1, 2014

Poetry by Gayle Boss

FEBRUARY 2007: POETRY Birdhouse Nailed up on the tree out back beyond junk mail and shopping bags, cell phones, talk of wrongs and holidays, its mouth sings O to small brown birds depleted now from months of winter wind and snow, O Come sink in dead grass and shed fur. No expectation here of the ready chirp. In this dark hollow, one work-- Hear echo your heart beating hunger. Leashed Late dusk, the end of the path. Inside, beckoning the…
Gayle Boss
February 16, 2007