Betsy Thorne

"I write poetry with my whole being--especially with my ears and my eyes--and, usually with a pot of coffee."  -- Betsy Thorne    

A Dry Spell
by Betsy Thorne


Here it is
the end of January
and the cold ground is
brittle dry
like the rusted hull
of Papa's jon boat
down by the water's edge.
Granny says it'll take
days of rain
before the ground
gives way to boot heels.


Miraculously,
the red berries
of the holly tree
grow more brilliant
and fat
with each rainless hour
as if to lay waste
any cardinal's worry.


One of those berries
in a bird's beak
is like a promising line
to a poet
long without a poem.