Wendy Dobro Poems

It means “Good luck”.
I spent some time there a while ago,
With water and sand rushing between my toes.
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Don't fault yourself
for approaching life passionately.
It would be much like the moon not rising.
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Windy day, trees bent
Some are stretching out their arms
Leaving leaves to fall
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I never needed to be here.
I never wanted to be heard.
I never spoke about that time in the mountains,
Or the way I felt when he looked at me.
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Sometimes it’s like a dam, broken by a flood.
At times it surprises me, and others, I think.
It is a gift, I suppose,
An opportunity to live boldly-to laugh, to learn.
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Green, rain-drenched trees summer knows not.
Not the piercing summers, anyway, of a toasty, southern shore.
Rich in humus and musty, rich tones that quench the nostrils with said odors.
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