Sorrow's Springs
Jennifer Newhouse

Sorrow's Springs

Only October and already the sky
knows to turn in earlier, the maple
slipping into her negligee of copper
& flame. Imitatio dei:
everything becoming like God, holy,
kindled with intention. Even pumpkins
asleep on the vine wait for their cores
to be whittled, ignited. The whole earth
aglow: brushwood bonfires at dusk,
a different kind of blooming—fiery
reminder of how easy faith once seemed,
and tangible, before God became
a welcomed guest, that old flame who can
never bring himself to stay for long, or at all.

Jennifer Newhouse

is an assistant professor of creative writing at Chowan University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in SAND, Nimrod, Salamander, Triquarterly, Blue Lyra, Canary and other journals.