...
And I remember
the tree on that dark night, in
deep black, backlit
by lamplight,
quiet tableau.
And in the middle,
I and the tree, alone
in chill air,
we stood—
at the end of the
block, the beginning of it,
and I, looking at the leaves,
fire and gold blazing
there,
in the cool silence
of my night, leaves like
streaks of glass, blazing.
Fire and gold mixed with
honey, it stood, solid, held in song.
My tree, jeweled—alight.
...
Bracha K. Sharp was published in the American Poetry Review, the Birmingham Arts Journal, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Wild Roof Journal, Rogue Agent Journal, and the Thimble Literary Magazine, among others. She placed first in the national Hackney Literary Awards and was a finalist in the New Millennium Writings Poetry Awards. She received a 2019 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medal for her debut picture book. As her writing notebooks seem to end up finding their way into different rooms, she is always finding both old pieces to revisit and new inspirations to work with. She is a current reader for the Baltimore Review.
www.brachaksharp.com