The twisted limb forms a welcoming lintel.
Oak transom arches above wooden walkway.
Kudzu tunnels permeate urban forest, reveal
redwoods, prickly pear, frame distant frog pond.
I purposefully wander off-grid,
seek tranquility among berries and willows,
untouched by failing loved ones,
overwhelming obligations, insecure future.
Overhead, a beleaguered hawk
employs defensive aerial maneuvers,
soars across infinite, unsullied blue,
pursued by hectoring blackbirds.
By Jennifer Lagier
Jennifer Lagier has published ten books and in literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Forthcoming books: Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle). Click here to visit her website.