Numbered
She figured ten minutes on the deck in
full sun
would lift her out of a downward spiral.
Self-doubt should have faded
once she had published books,
worked through a difficult marriage --
climbed the ladder of years.
Yet at times, skepticism shadowed sense --
The familiar ache of descent
filtered down to her fingertips.
No way to pick precise words
when wrestling with oneself.
She put her laptop to sleep,
turned off her phone and sat,
looking over golden-flowered squash
and end-of-summer roses
that blushed when the light shined
through.
The breeze cooled her skin,
gently erased traces of sweat
from morning’s fruitless writing.
She scolded herself
and turned her eyes upward
to view ginger-tinged maple leaves.
take in full-throated robin song,
Ten sunny minutes grew to twenty
as blue jay, black cat, and squirrel
took turns drinking from the bird bath.
Her shoulders relaxed —
self-doubt could wait
but late-summer moments like these
were numbered.
Mary Anna Kruch
Mary Anna Kruch is a career educator and writer. Inspiration flows from her Italian family near Rome, her American family, PTSD, and nature. She leads a monthly local writing group. Recent poetry has appeared in Ariel Chart, Mark Literary Review, Trinity Review, Wayne Literary Review, Credo Espoir, and an anthology: After: Stories About Loss and What Comes After. Work is forthcoming in two anthologies. Her first poetry collection, We Draw Breath from the Same Sky, was published in July, 2019.
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Poetry