Contributor: Richard Hartwell
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Evil, dark-brown snake-tangle,
some as thick as your thumb,
naked and bleak in the winter sun,
yearning to regulate the inner fire.
Balled atop an arbor pole
champagne grape vines
await season’s change without
shedding, emerald skin appears.
Blossoms, buds, orbs of
clear tang, bursting from
tangles to be plucked and savored,
sumptuous bulbs of sugared venom.
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Rick Hartwell is a retired middle school teacher (remember the hormonally-challenged?) living in Southern California. He believes in the succinct, that the small becomes large; and, like the Transcendentalists and William Blake, that the instant contains eternity.
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