Green Hills Literary Lantern





Today, as I wait

for the biopsy results, the world

blindsides me with beauty


the Midtown nuisance of scaffolding, blue boards

now a brilliant heavenly hue, the industrial

tangle of cranes, soaring graceful birds.


A couple on a park bench, eyes moons of adoration,

as they dote under a flowering tree

has all the happiness anyone could ever need.


Why do we want so much?

When everything is right here--

where moist green air wafts warm and cool,


and a young girl blows bubbles,

the soapy splash landing

light and wet against my leg


Here, where poppy flowers tower as if to exclaim

I will live brightly and just the way I desire if only

for a short while.


How did I never notice the amber

eyes of pigeons, or come to treasure

the greenish-purple iridescence of their necks?


At the farmers' market a woman sells challah bread,

and even though I have no appetite, I can't resist

the soft pull and tear of the sweet golden flesh.


I buy a loaf and walk home to wait for the call.

Raindrops fall light and scarce

here and not here, like a dream.



Emily Benson-Scott is a poet, travel writer, and adjunct professor.   She received her B.A. from Cornell University and her M.F.A. from Goddard College.  Her writing has appeared in Cold Mountain Review, Nimrod International Journal, Blue Stocking Society, Colorado Review, Potpourri, Postcards Magazine and Ultratravel. She and her husband work remotely and divide their time between New York, the South of France, and the Florida Keys.