Early Spring

by Rachel E. Greer

Along the highway

Above the orange cones and the patchwork of concrete piles

At the edge of the forest

Hawks are circling.

My body, my limits

my collection of sentience

is the form of a dark hawk

winding like a searchlight over the black woods

about to wake up.

* * *

Rachel E. Greer writes fiction for teenagers and adults, nonfiction for everybody, and poetry for herself (or maybe a friend if you ask nicely). She grew up in Texas, came of age in New York City and Portland, Oregon, and is now at home in Brooklyn. Her short stories appear in the Brooklyn Rail and Rough Copy, among others. She has worked restoring and rebuilding antique lamps, successfully managing offices, making puppets and designing lights, and most recently is getting her Master’s in Archives and Public History at NYU.



Filed under Early Spring by Rachel E. Greer

3 responses to “Early Spring

  1. Alexis

    How lovely! I love “winding like a searchlight.”

  2. stephen suddarth

    clear and sharp like looking through a glass

  3. Kat Woodville

    I really got into the imagery of this poem, very evocative and visually dimensional. Love it!

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