each time
a wave of grief flattens me
I try to remember
to whisper “let go”
so the wave returns to the sea
***
alone
she waits
for sunset
for sunrise
another day
***
waiting for the clock
to reach tomorrow
putting this
anniversary behind me
survivor
***
will our
children's children
be able to watch
ice caps
as they calve
***
a single snowflake
falling toward my outstretched tongue
melts in the air above
from the warmth of our
imagined kiss
***
piano floats
alongside flute
weaving together
counterpart and melody
sublimely Jethro Tull
***
patchouli
with aftertones of
unwashed-ness
seeking but failing
to cover
***
store-bought roses
in the middle of winter
anticipating
summer’s
bounty
- Jennifer Gurney
Broomfield, Colorado, US
a wave of grief flattens me
I try to remember
to whisper “let go”
so the wave returns to the sea
***
alone
she waits
for sunset
for sunrise
another day
***
waiting for the clock
to reach tomorrow
putting this
anniversary behind me
survivor
***
will our
children's children
be able to watch
ice caps
as they calve
***
a single snowflake
falling toward my outstretched tongue
melts in the air above
from the warmth of our
imagined kiss
***
piano floats
alongside flute
weaving together
counterpart and melody
sublimely Jethro Tull
***
patchouli
with aftertones of
unwashed-ness
seeking but failing
to cover
***
store-bought roses
in the middle of winter
anticipating
summer’s
bounty
- Jennifer Gurney
Broomfield, Colorado, US
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry is widely published, two of her poems have won international contests and one was turned into a choral piece. Jennifer has four books of published poetry, My Eyes Adjusting (2024), Liquid Sky (2025), Love’s Echolocation (2025) and Light Matters More (2025, forthcoming). In just over two and a half years, more than 1,500 of Jennifer’s poems have been published. She is also delighted to be a guest editor for Haiku Girl Summer.
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