Two poems written while walking around on retreat at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville, VA.

Frost

Opalescent shards of glass
sparkling
tempting
reflecting
refracting…
If I lay down – 
nestle into you –
I’d leave a mark.
It’d disappear
in the light of day
though,
only leaving a chill
in my bones.

Liminality

I heard you were a threshold,
something to step over,
stumble on
move through,
be carried past.
It turns out you’re
a narrow way –
a joint,
a spring-ed hinge,
held in tension
poised with kinetic energy
spanning past and future
bowed and bent
only,

– ever –

at the present.

© Annabelle P. Markey