The secret of winter is contained in fall.
Cold cheeks, the brilliance of red camellias,
redder for the white flowers nearby.
The fig tree has withered — maybe next year, fruit.
Meanwhile, I’ve gotten out the extra blanket.
Neighbor’s windows are closed tight.
Rain is coming, moss, and dark nights with stars
so bright, I’ll think again:
like seeing through the inside of a diamond.
Jerome Gagnon lives in Northern California, where he’s worked as a teacher and freelance journalist. He studied with writers Robert Creeley and Kay Boyle at San Francisco State University, receiving an MA in English/Creative Writing.
His poetry appeared recently in Spiritus, Archaeopteryx, Crab Creek Review, Roaring Muse, and several anthologies. His chapbook, Spell of the Ordinary, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in January. http://www.jeromegagnonblog.wordpress.com