By Lauren Taub Cohen

I just want to play

unburdened and unbothered

in this grassy meadow

of wild being.

Holding half formed words

up toward the light

and sensing those

that color and connect

the shifting shades

of experience beginning

to form in the fleeting now.

Then pausing

and waiting

to see what else

may want to emerge

from this shadowy terrain

of trusting stillness

if only I stay

without demanding


without expecting.

This is the work of a poet.

Tending to the unknown

with undimmable devotion

while weeding the invasive urge

to rush

takes patience, commitment

and an implacable faith

that only grit

and grind

can build.

It’s not easy work

and at times joyless.

But it’s the unfolding I crave

that carries me forward

like a ranunculus unbound

from a cloistered bud.

I write how I live

and live how I write.

Pulsing beats of ink

Foot steps traveling

on and off

the page.