Once, in July
I found three red mushrooms
gleaming in the yard
like beacons, caps smooth as stones,
tawny stalks. Once I saw
a spider with its shed skin
dangling nearby
in the web, forlorn
as a castoff soul. And once
a baby toad
at the edge of the garden
hopped onto my hand,
and I lifted it
to look into its eyes,
which were ringed with light,
tiny pools brimming
with summer’s mystery.
~
Carol Grametbauer’s poems have appeared in numerous literary journals, including Appalachian Heritage, Appalachian Journal, Connecticut River Review, and Third Wednesday, and in several anthologies. Her chapbook, Now & Then, was released by Finishing Line Press in 2014. She lives in Kingston, Tennessee, where she is chair of the board of directors of Tennessee Mountain Writers.
~
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