Reverb

For three days, the child cried
over her lost rock. No one
could find it—rocks
were everywhere, starting
with the gravel driveway.

Her mother understood love
for a missing mineral. Could not
decipher the description.
“It was three. It was three bright,”
choked out between sobs.

Mama prayed for a miracle
and took her child on a hike
with notebook, recording
every bright thing—
animal, vegetable, rock.
Crow’s eye. Leaf bud.
Doe’s tail. Sun on creek.

Climbing ridges, knee-bending
down the hollows, their list
shone bright as winter sun
on snow. The child wanted
something to take home,
live with.

Find bright and be there. Be
a rock there. A rock they march over—
mothers and lovers and lost ones.
Steady now. Let their cries
reverberate within you.

Grandmother Bristlecone
—Cedar Breaks National Monument, Utah

Earth melts away

———————beneath your roothold

———————————-in limestone now two miles high

Where lightning visits

————–often as a next-door neighbor

Wind

———brings news of bison

—————————–and bulldozers

—-carves canyons into fins

—————————–that erode to bulbous hoodoos

Your twigs are stronger

Word is

————the condor is back

—-Have you snagged a feather

——————————–on a dead limb

——–you sealed off to keep the rest alive?

Brazen question

——————–I have too few years to listen as you answer

—-bark lace unraveling

—————————–to bleached bone

About the Author

(image) Kelly Lenox’s debut collection, The Brightest Rock (2017), received honorable mention for the 2018 Brockman-Campbell Book Award. Her work appears in RHINO, Hubbub, EcoTheo Review, Split Rock Review, and elsewhere in the U.S. and Europe, with Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations. Kelly holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and is editor-in-chief of the National Institutes of Health Environmental Factor. She lives in Portland, Oregon. (www.kellylenox.com)