Grotto | L. Ward Abel

The wheeling spray, the grotto
full of potted plants and planted ones
too, seraphim under fake rain
but rain is coming.

The world, the storm it spins away
while coming at you true enough
but I shut it off, by God,
at the garden’s edge.

A show, a face looks at colors
piercing background as red
and roseorange pinpoints
of sun.

The calling voices, the woods,
a soup of birds could overtake
harvest, clear our tables
if left to ruin

but Wednesday brings a squall line
and with it spiral force, a jolt
to all things, a flash
a planting.

L. Ward Abel, poet, composer, teacher, retired lawyer, lives in Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and is the author of twofull collections and eleven chapbooks of poetry, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006),   American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Cousins Over Colder Fields (Finishing Line Press, 2013),  Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (erbacce-Press, 2016), Digby Roundabout (Kelsay Books, 2017), and The Rainflock Sings Again (Unsolicited Press, 2019) and the forthcoming full collection, Floodlit (Beakful Press).

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