Three Poems by Marianne Szlyk

Chicory at Castle Island

 

For now,
the powder blue flower
frisks
in the cool wind
and lingers
at salt water’s edge,
reclaiming the sand
for plants.

 

 

 

Mushrooms

Meditate
on the underside of a fallen tree
or the summer lawns
after heavy rains.
Remain
open to the possibility
of our presence, our poison,
our many colors, shapes:
spheres, dribbles,
            split-gill flowers, and scraps.

 

 

 

Spring Snow

 

This morning snow falls
like a chain-link fence
between us and Spring.

 

Cherry blossoms and magnolias
mingle with coarse flakes
that cling to the trees.

 

The sweet ground
that was beginning to green
now smells of nothing.

 

The shovel’s crunch returns.

 

Only the pond is the same
opaque water
despite the snow.

 

 

 

Marianne Szlyk is an associate professor of English at Montgomery College, Rockville.  Every so often she thinks about going on a walking tour in England, but for now she is happy to explore East Rockville and parts of Washington, DC.  Her poems have appeared in Kind of a Hurricane's print anthologies beginning with Of Sun and Sand as well as in online venues such as Aberration Labyrinth, Poehemians, and the Blue Hour.