Ellen Porter
1/25/08
The Illusion and the Verse

I was so distracted
that I missed seeing
the full moon
rising orange and round
like a fine gourd at sunset.

My mind was on poetry,
how to come upon it unaware
and tack it to the page.
But instead it came to me
unaware and I lost both
the illusion and the verse.


Ellen Porter
7/25/07
The Sentinel

I have not dared to go see it yet,
since the storm,
the sentinel pine, towering, leaning,
sheltering the sunken garden.

So suddenly,
yesterday it was healthy
bearing cones, ornaments hanging,
brown and seeded from greening fingers.
And today it is dead, those seeds
its only hope of future generation.

The storm was unexpected
centered in this garden, in this home.
The lightening blackened a clock on the wall,
asserting its power, stopping time on edge.

But worse, striking, it burned through
the heart of the pine.
Branches hang loose
making it dangerous to lie beneath it,
staring into its shadows, its lights.

And what of the shade it offers;
what of the darkened corner of
garden where small animals
make their homes, their hunting grounds?
And, oh, the birds.