I didn’t know I would be grateful
for the memory of my pond
where cattails were thick around the edges,
the sun warming my stone lounge,
toes dipped in cool water,
my hair wisping in the breeze.
I didn’t know today that my pen
would dance across paper,
sway and swish in cursive, marring
the ivory surface of a once mighty pine
where squirrels twittered and chased,
hid acorns and fallen pecans
in the woods curving
my favorite place to think.
Chris Wood is a lease analyst by day, student by night, and writer in between. Chris lives in Tennessee with her husband and three dogs. She is currently earning her bachelor’s degree and has poetry published in Poetry Quarterly, Haiku Journal, and other publications. She won second prize in the 2016 CWG Spring Contest for her poem, Thus Your Live Grows.
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