c o n v e r g e n c e:
an online journal of poetry & art


CHICAGO ORD by Surajit Chakravarty

CHICAGO ORD by Surajit Chakravarty

by John Abbott

Traffic was good
out on the westbound,
light swarming
through new growth,
pine tree hills gently
bruised by runoff.

It'll be dark
soon but next week
a little later,
and then the next week
later still. I can finally see
myself settling into this season;

observing the various
shades of brown that make up
the tree trunks
is an exercise
in patience and denial,
a ritual we take comfort in

and try to forge
meaning out of,
or maybe just
get lost in the motion
of trees rushing by, waving me
on to the next destination.

ICY by Brenda Yamen

ICY by Brenda Yamen

by B.Z. Niditch

April steps out
of its breathless
shadowy earth
on common ground
near the blue hills
and am realizing
there is no bread
in the kitchen,
my winter treasure
has been squandered
lost with rain and fog,
still the wish
for first light
on your threshold's
faded welcome mat,
or to hear Coltrane
with a coffee,
showers fill my hands
on the cold porch,
snow gardens
like my frozen breaths
are disappearing,
we tremble with the trees
in a past landscape
by Cezanne
finding notes
in a foreign tongue
on the piano
and all familiar stuff
of nature,
the dead bird's wings,
the watery grass,
school children on ice
on the indigo pond
in a pale dawn,
windows with writing
by my newly uncovered
sun glasses,
my diary still sitting
with red ink
on the sofa
has a voice
in memory
for what we are really
searching for.

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