Joyce Chelmo

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Best Poem of Joyce Chelmo

Her Pilgrimage

the first time we saw
her was last fall
she was standing
in a patch of grass
between lanes on hwy #10

over layers of clothing
she wore a white sheet
like mother teresa

this spring she stands on a grassy knoll
just beyond the sheriff’s office
holding a magazine for all to see

her hair slips out of
her habit
like a blend
blonde & gray steel wool

she’s stout
her face is weathered
& rough
paper bags & backpacks
lay next to a lawn chair

day after day no matter the weather
you’ll find her seated there
on ...

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Gloaming Hour

outside in the gloaming,
southern wind blew my hair
like flames
every star in the galaxy
was visible in blue vespers
reaching to grasp for them
symbolically
i would like to believe
they're there just for me