Poetry by Sharon Scholl
When everything portends,
clings to the edge of not quite yet,
teeters on perhaps.
Just a hint of green
pokes from wilted stalks,
risking little, wary of reversal.
Nothing signals go ahead!
Nothing gestures all safe now
to a land still hovering.
I sit with my seed catalog
deep in petunia fantasies
despite its warning, sow after frost.
Sharon Scholl is an ancient poet (91) still very active as convener of a poetry critique group and poetry editor of a local women’s journal. Her poems currently published are in Front Range Review and Third Wednesday.
