Dewdrops
The trees wear thick and milky leaves
like a holidaymaker in a yellow Panama hat;
The grass is short, and the meadows cleaned
like a woman purified after giving birth;
The flowers have cast off the long spell
cast by darkness during last year’s winter;
So leisurely does the moon climb the hill
with little movement yet so much grace and faith;
Watch how birds take off in the middle of flight
their shadows reflected in the wall of my heart;
Not like a bird or insect with broken wings
does the sky limp to lick the softening honeydew?
As we hurry by, leaves bow to the wind,
clothed in nothing but the gauze of the sky.
In the distance, the seagulls watch in dismay
as dewdrops lower their silver hair and soft smoke.
I dare not glance upon the grass
where it has spread its fresh milk around;
And every tree lost in its legend of diamonds
beams with the joy of the approaching sun.
Jonathan Chibuike Ukah is a Pushcart Prize-nominated poet living in the UK with his family. His poems have been featured in the Atticus Review, San Antonio Review, The Ephemeral Literary Review, Strange Horizons, The Pierian, The Unleash Lit and elsewhere. He is the winner of the Alexander Pope Poetry Award 2023 and the second runner-up of the Wingless Dreamer Publishing Poetry Prize 2023.
Grand Little Things 