Community Poem 2025

Again to Art on Cullers Run

  

Let’s gather today, ta da, 

as the mist veils the world from sight. 

Take a load off—

 

bask in soft silks and molten jewels, 

the smell of wildflowers. 

We are the art, word fodder. 

 

His wallet, sleeping till 12 pm, yawns 

“oh-well.” I need to buy some poetry. 

Red-tailed hawk screams, “what 

should our best be?”

 

The part inside that sings? 

Trying desperately—running from 

wasps—holding the exposed parts 

together. 

 

I saw a moose––oh really?––standing 

alone in our field, taking a minute 

to warm up to the art. 

 

Rhododendron frames the silence, 

unaspirated. A tapestry underneath

is dancing to mellow songs, knitting 

useful waste.

 

a monarch pauses

one wing leads to another 

reverberations

 

This community is almost haiku, 

not even a page, open space. 

Feel the positive breeze blowing 

through the hollow. 

 

~voices of visitors to the Poetry Porch at "Art on Cullers Run"

(assembled by Charise Hoge)