Two Poems By Emalisa Rose

An occasional robin

The squirrels remain.
Three or four catbirds
a surplus of blue jays
the mourning doves
and an occasional robin.

The branch of the sparrow
though dormant of leaves
confirms, that “yes, not 
all birds migrate.”

And once again, this time 
of year, is when I begin 
to miss you, my old friend.
To a Winter state

Joe stacks the chairs
on the warped wooden tables.
Tony removes all the booze
from the shelves.
Sara spins one final time
on the ferris wheel.

And it’s last call for summertime,
on this south jersey town
where bliss like this
only lasts four or five months or so
due to latitudes/longitudes -
as I was born in a winter state.

(watching the leaves blow the greens
off the sycamores to further drive home
the sobriety that “Yes,” Winter will
soon do her thing again)

When not writing poems, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and drawing. She volunteers in animal rescue and tends to cat colonies. She lives by the beach, which provides much of the inspiration for her art. Her work has appeared in Spillwords, Grand Little Things, The Red Wolf Edition and other great places.

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