Poetry by Suzy Harris
Blue sky laced with clouds, chilly breeze.
Sometimes the sun breaks through to kiss
a cheek, a shoulder, then hides again.
Sandals and sun hat emerge from hibernation.
It is all about the light here,
how it sets the lemon tree aflame,
each lemon a small sun of tart brilliance.
Each cell dulled by winter stirs,
arises to greet the day. Day is still
getting used to these strangers,
prods the multi-celled being
we call human to watch
a hummingbird hovering the base of twin
palm trees, to notice the stalk
arising from the center of an agave,
its death bloom still tightly curled.
Suzy Harris lives in Portland, Oregon. Her poems have appeared in Clackamas Literary Review, Willawaw Journal, and Wild Greens, among other journals and anthologies. Her chapbook Listening in the Dark, about hearing loss and learning to hear again with cochlear implants, was published by The Poetry Box in February 2023.
