Tim Smajda


All of us walked along the trail, golden leaves above and beside still shaking
off last night’s rain. I kept ten steps behind the rest, and someone laughed and
then another and then everyone else was laughing. I watched everyone’s feet
tread upon the brown dirt path littered with copper leaves and grey worms.

A wind rustled the trees; a spray of mist fell upon our heads and a yellow leaf
drifted past my gaze and disappeared into the woods. I hoped that some day
a breeze would blow and pluck me from where I was too.




I had the honor of sitting in Pauline’s poetry workshop class in Spring of 2019 and wanted to submit a poem that was a favorite of hers from my portfolio.


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Shawangunk Review Volume XXXII Copyright © 2021 by Tim Smajda is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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