Garden Before The Move by Jean C. Howard

Like an old movie,
sepia tone soaking through light
falling frame by frame,
slow death rattling across
the pavers,

Or even flashing birth—forecasting shadow
as well as brightness,

Old garden,
clicking and anxious,
cicada-filled, scratchy
with dusk
and gangly June,
spreading beyond your marks,

I get it,
still spellbound by bold
displays and clapping
hands of cottonwoods,

Yet sense a difference—the bloating at seams
and pause, tinted
by Russian olive,

And the movie—much bluer and beautiful,
resonates with irony,
now that I must leave it.

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About the author:

After residing in Chicago for 22 years, performance poet, Jean C. Howard, returned to her home town, Salt Lake City, UT in 2000. Her poetry has appeared in Harper’s Magazine, The Revolution of The Spoken Word, The Chicago Tribune, as well as over 120 literary publications. A participant in the original development of the internationally acclaimed Poetry Slam, her book of poetry, Dancing In Your Mother’s Skin, was awarded two grants for publication. Organizer of the annual National Poetry Video Festival for eight years, she has performed in hundreds of venues nationally, from biker bars to contemporary art museums, with her own award-winning video poems airing on cable and public television and film festivals.