Tag Archives: Christine Valters Paintner

Ripe

I walk down to the orchard summoned by purple, the ecstasy of wisteria and the soft persimmon sun. Did you know a pear tree is a paradise of limbs and leaves? Anjou, Bartlett, and Bosc garlands hang heavy across this … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment

Take My Hand

Please don’t plant me neat rows of rosebushes and tulips at attention, no manicured gardens or crystal vases of cut stems. Instead, take my hand, lead me onto rain-softened grass which undulates like a boat on a summer lake, lie … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments

Requiem for Myself

When I die plant a pinwheel in an open field where winter’s wind and rain march forcefully across in battalions, and you can stumble out there to meet me one late afternoon when you feel the world must surely be … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment