2 Poems

Another Kind of Sustenance

Like statues

three deer stand beneath a pine tree

waiting for snow

to stop falling. After a winter of nothing

there’s more than a foot, maybe

more than two.

We’re all trapped for the day

me with food, water, shelter, heat.

They, with each other.

There are four now, the latecomer

having failed an attempt at a hillside forage.

If only I had some fresh hosta leaves.

I won’t drive today. I’ll have to shovel

the roof and can already feel it

in my back, how it will ache

from the effort. I’ll do it later. Right now,

one of the statues has come to life. She shakes

the wetness off her coat

like a summer sprinkler emptying.

Even the cat can’t stop

staring out the window, can’t stop watching

the magpies hop. They’ve joined the deer

in waiting—no room for them

on branches so heavily weighted in white.

If only I could learn

that kind of patience, embrace

the unexpected. If only

I could scoop this beauty into a bowl,

offer spoons to the world

and share it.

I Wanted to Write a Little Something

about hope, but I couldn’t

think of anything

so I went for a walk.

It was cold & cloudy

but a little while later

the sun popped out

narrowing my naked eyes

into a squint.

I searched my empty pockets.

You should always bring sunglasses

I said to myself.

And there it was.

A little something about hope.

Michelle Meyer is the author of The Trouble with Being a Childless Only Child (Cornerstone Press, 2024) and The Book of She (2021). Individual poems have appeared in Autumn Sky, ONE ART, Pearl Press, Remington Review, Tiny Spoon, and elsewhere. She lives in western Wisconsin. Find her @meeshmeyerwrites and www.michellemeyerwrites.com.