Wednesday, 5 November 2014

1 Poem by M.J.Iuppa

Early Winter Sermon

Too close to the road, old pines stand
tuned to the environment. Heavy branches
lift in the rush of arctic air, sending

clumps of snow to mark a trail leading
to nowhere but here, where we can
stay straight as needles, with our

arms outstretched, casting shadows
on the listening hour, beckoning
the ghost of Blake to make us

realize heaven isn’t found in restless
dreams, but heard in quiet thoughts
of winding winter streams.

Bionote

M.J.Iuppa lives on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario.  Between Worlds is her most recent chapbook, featuring lyric essays, flash fiction and prose poems (Foothills Publishing, 2013). Recent poems, flash fictions, and essays in When Women Waken, Poppy Road Review, Wild: A Quarterly, Eunoia Review, Andrea Reads America, Canto, Grey Sparrow Journal, The Poetry Storehouse, Avocet, Right Hand Pointing, Tiny-lights, The Lake (U.K.), The Kentucky Review, and more.  She is the Writer-in-Residence and Director of the Visual and Performing Arts Minor Program at St. John Fisher College.  You can follow her musings on writing and creative sustainability on Red Rooster Farm on mjiuppa.blogspot.com.

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