Too Much by Joan Colby

It was like running cool water over your wrists
On the hottest day of the summer.
Windless and wordless.
 
Like clouds lumbering up the slope of the sky
Burdened with moisture like Sherpas
Who do this for the money.
 
Like those who died on the trek
Wanting to accomplish something
They could not articulate
 
Like the trash they left at the base camp
Or in the ocean—a plastic shroud.
It was what accumulates
 
A leftover emotion from a dream
You can’t recall. The morning dark
With thunder.
 
Things happen or they don’t.
It’s nothing, you assure the child
Who still trusts you.
 
How a potted plant makes such a small demand.
Water. Sunlight. So easy to neglect.
Sometimes the littlest need is too much.
 
You can’t stand it. You stare out the window
At the ordinary uneventful landscape. It fills you
With sweetness like local honey.
Photo by Scott Webb on Pexels.com

About the Poet:

Joan Colby’s Selected  Poems received the 2013 FutureCycle Prize and Ribcage was awarded the 2015 Kithara Book Prize. Her recent books include Her Heartsongs from Presa Press, Joyriding to Nightfall from FutureCycle Press, Elements from Presa Press .and Bony Old Folks from Cyberwit Press. She has another book forthcoming  from The Poetry Box Select  series titled The Kingdom of the Birds which should be out next August.

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