Poem by Ibby Tarshis

Fall In Maine
Written by Ibby Tarshis

Fall in Maine
It’s fall and so
we let ourselves fall—
with the leaves
and the temperature.
They’re turning.
But we have our scarves
and vests to hold us and we
can’t be bothered by imperfect
apple crisp, speeding
tickets, and losing ourselves
to MapQuest.
It’s what happens when you get
a little overzealous with your
odometer or your nutmeg.
It’s fall and so
we let ourselves fall—
follow the paths up and
down that mini-mountain,
where we get lost again.
And reach for the reddest
fruit on the tree tips in the
back section of the orchard.
You remember you love
apples, and not just baked in crisps,
when we share one together
on the freezing cold beach
while the orange fall sun brings
our day to a holding close.
It’s fall and so
we let ourselves fall—
closer and closer together.

A poem by JodiAnn Stevenson

This reminds me so much of my "used to be" little boy. He's almost to my shoulder now but I still remember carrying him so clearly. The days do pass fast..

A Prayer to My Son
By JodiAnn Stevenson

Grant me your small wet lips and hands
that dive beneath my ribs to find whatever’s
hiding there. Grant me the tongue that cannot
rest when the mind is lighting on something
new. Grant me the newness you know
for grass, for kites, for television and cement
floors where you’ll sprawl against misplaced
nails and you won’t care about dirt or blood.

Grant me the blood that will one day grow
distant and singular. Grant me your arms
and legs which will one day not wrap around me
as we descend the staircase each morning,
groggy and warm. Grant me the heat of your half-
sleeping body reposing against my chest,
the sweat from your hair line as the curls
turn up from your ears. Grant me

the heart that flutters in your quiet chest,
a simple curious tail of a brook trout
that flips and flips and, thank God, flips.