by Mary Vlooswyk

A New Sapling Appears

A lone wanderer 

I am not alone. 

Blackbirds rise from the willows. 

A great blue heron brushes morning 

steel grey with his feathered beard. 

My heart jumps at a beavertail splash. 

Wind whispers through dry grass. 

Voices carry across the park 

echo yesterday into today. 

My hands are cold, my fingers stiff 

a raindrop glances off my cheek. 

I grow roots 

where gnarled stumps of silver lay 

so that I too may reach the sky. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary is a poet who writes to create a sound that readers may recognize as their own. She is an emerging writer who was shortlisted for Quattro Books’ inaugural “Best New Poet in Canada” in 2018, and she placed third in a Canada 150 contest. Her writing has appeared in Asahi Shimbun, Mothers Always Write, FreeFall, GUSTS, Moonbathing, Wales Haiku, and Wild Musette, as well as a number of anthologies. She often forgets to visit her own blog.