The Exchange is the Weekly’s poetry corner, where a poem or piece of writing is presented with a prompt. Readers are welcome to respond to the prompt with original poems, and pieces may be featured in the next issue of the Weekly.
Featured below is a reader response to a previous prompt. The last poem and prompt can be found here.
The Garden by Josh Gassman
Within the hallowed halls of wispy willow falls
Beside the stream, beneath the sun, whisking the downs
Of peach fuzz sprouts, barely turned to brown, he cries
The tree sap streams, engorged and gushing
Drip, drip, down the leaves, the tears keep rushing
Cheeks full, tail erect, a squirrel climbs home
While he sits slouched, arms flaccid, with cheeks blushing
A sweet honey crisp, fresh from the drop
Falls again, between his feet, he can’t start to stop
Kings rise, children die, but the woods stay silent
But alas man, born to die, cannot live in private
What to do
A traveler passes, a shock throughout, life again
For he who has lived without, a smile or pain
Or something else, “Please join me here,
I’ve no one else,” but she passes by without a word
Climbs the trees, watches birds, without the sense to hear
“You and I we’re just the same,” he lies without a care
“The woods are good, but show me what’s it like out there!”
Hours pass, maybe months, he sleeps without an end
Is this any way to live, in the woods who loved a man