Fall 2009

Table of Contents - Vol. V, No. 3


Poetry    Reviews    Fiction   

William L. Alton


Coaxing Blossoms

A hummingbird,
bright red at the throat,
dances with the sunflowers
in my son’s garden. He is
his mother’s boy, born
with his wrists buried
in the ground, coaxing
blossoms from spring storms.
I can not love him more
than I do now.
The way he stares at me
when we talk. Every word drops
into him like rain into rivers.

Sometimes he dances
in the living room.
There is no music,
he just moves his body. He hums
himself a simple rhythm.


© William L. Alton



Poetry    Reviews    Fiction   

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