Jennifer MacPherson

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She is never still – such energy.
Runs me off the tennis court
with wicked lobs and serves I can’t return.

Licks peanut butter from her fingers,
grabs a doughnut, a burger, some fries.
Never gains a pound.

Drives like a maniac. I shiver
to ride with her, who feels only the thrill
of risk, never the danger.

I see that she is surrounded
by a halo of light and she shimmers,
she shines like the boy

in Thomas Cole’s second painting
from The Ages of Man,
the boy who will travel only down the river.

First Published in Comstock Review


© 2007 Jennifer MacPherson
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