It hangs on its
                stem like a plum
at the edge of a
               darkening thicket.

It’s swelling and
               blushing and ripe
and I reach out a
               hand to pick it

but flesh moves
               slow through time
and evening
               comes on fast

and just when I
               think my fingers
might seize that
               sweetness at last

the gentlest of
               breezes rises
and the plum lets
               go of   the stem.

And now it’s my
               fingers ripening
and evening that’s
               reaching for them.

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I did not expect to like Poetry Out Loud, truthfully. My first year, I did not want to compete at all.Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with the program and have learned so much about poetry, performing, and expression throughout the last three years."
Gabrielle Hunt
2017 NV POL Champion