Poetry by Nicole Farmer
The words tendinitis & torn meniscus get thrown
around doctors’ offices & at home leaving
me to come to terms with immobility & mandatory
rest, while my body revolts, my mind riots
& old age cackles in my ear all the fears
of dependency – send my mind reeling in doom,
despair, confined to a chair or couch
to slowly atrophy & wither away to obscurity.
Then just this morning the trees spoke to me –
underground roots rough raspy voice saying
hold tight, stand still & breathe in the day
be like us and sway your trunk/torso
do what you can to reach your limbs/arms up
move with the gentle wind.
Oh yes, there will be chair yoga & stationary
bikes in your future, but right now
slow down, stop racing & look around
delight in the early yellow light & the drying leaves.
August is evaporating so enjoy these last days
of simmering summer swelter.
So, I moved my reading chair to the deck & embraced
a long-awaited repose in the shade of the old maple.
Nicole Farmer (she/her) has published Wet Underbelly Wind (Finishing Line Press 2022) and Honest Sonnets (Kelsay Books 2023). Her poems have been published in Wisconsin Review, Suisun Valley Review, Apricity, Wild Roof Journal, Poetry South, Drunk Monkeys, Sad Girls Club, and many other journals. She lives in Asheville, North Carolina.
