The Love Song of the Forest For the Field
Mark Tredinnick / Poetry

The Love Song of the Forest For the Field

For Anne                                            You are the dance                   I prayed for, my love, and I am the prayer     That danced you free.                                      I am the supper                   You earned, Beloved, dancing                                      All of time down to its knees. You are       The forest in my blood and the wildness                     In my woods, in my leaves. And … Continue reading

Father
Dimitra Harvey / Poetry

Father

My father knew stone. He’d sit cross-legged at the hearth, felt cloth on knee, bent over with hammerstone, wooden punch, and bone tine, knapping at flint or chert, knapping it to knife point, sickle blade, arrowhead. I’d watch the stone give way beneath his deft blows: fine flakes splintering from face or rim. The curved … Continue reading