Tipton Poetry Journal – Spring 2022
Snowdrops Mary Hills Kuck No one told the snowdrops not to cluster close together when they poked their heads above the ground next to the maple tree beside the shed. They held each other up with slender leaves and gently opened out their milky petals, clumped like Mother’s curls. Today there was no melting snow that would remind them of the vigil’s coming end; they popped up through old leaves that snuggled them until they could no longer wait to sing, Surprise! Can you see that spring has come? Their paean’s short, but sweetens every ear.
Madelyn and the Resurrection of the Body
Mary Hills Kuck This body? You’ve got to be kidding. With its fragile heart, aching joints, belly out of sync with the food that goes in, drippy nose, dry skin, and scars, scars, scars. No. Who would want this body sent back to life, having found its long-sought rest, joining bit by bit the warm, leafy loam? Not me. I’d like a new one.
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