BLANK VERSE POEM
ELLEN WHITE ROOK
WORDS WITH FRIENDS
today we have chosen
the appropriate shoes
no wobbly boots
or sneakers without traction
but she is mistaken
about panoply
as we pass under the Kwanza cherry
she gestures upwards
and says it’s the perfect word
for this tree this morning
she says panoply is about falling
the way things come down
in a fluttering
twirling way
she points towards the sky which is
slick as a steely slab
nothing sticks to it
perfect frame
full-leaved bronze slipping
against the blue
the next tree still
holds onto flower
crab apple
pure white perianth surrounds
the stigma sun
anthers gather pollen
so thick the stamens seem to wave
lashes mustard
or gold
she carries her soft down sweater armor
I tie my chains and mail around the waist
masks in pocket
the trees a canopy maybe
not a panoply
no helmet
bevor
visor
what is the word
she was thinking of
for descend
surround
flutter
let go
sail
swirl
confetti
celebrate
what is the word
for the world’s armor
fallen forward
slipped away
for our first hug
after many months
petals disarm the sidewalk
bright pink
sticks to the rough patch
tightly seams
each crack

Ellen White Rook is a poet and teacher of contemplative arts living in Delmar, NY and South Portland, Maine. Retired from a career in information technology, she now offers writing workshops and leads retreats that merge meditation, movement, and writing. She also teaches ikebana, Japanese flower arranging. Ellen is a graduate of the Master of Fine Arts program at Lindenwood University. Her work has been published in New Verse News, Red Rock Review, Rock & Sling, Black Fork Review, New Note Poetry, Trolley Literary Journal, and more. Read more of her work at ellenwhiterook.com.