Edith Scott Johnson Poems

Along the Kentucky River on first May;
You strode tall, I stumbled, over roots
of old oaks that ridged across our rough path:
bright in new leafy growth,
...

One Autumn in Colorado, the leaves
meleed reds and burnt oranges to such extent
that a whimsy struck me about how other states would envy
if they could see these riots; how they'd grieve
...

A trickle of music
down the hall from my flat
floats slender fragments of sound--
Harmonis leaves glide down
...