I was brought up and still live in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia so I rely on imagery derived from the natural landscape to explore human relationships. My wife, Elizabeth, and I have two daughters and three grandchildren. I have been an architectural woodcarver for over 35 years and have written numerous articles and three books on the subject. My poetry has appeared in Shenandoah, Green Mountains Review, The Lyric, The South Carolina Review, Southern Poetry Review, and others.
I cannot reap forgiveness the way a logger
clears a hillside with noise and collateral damage.
I do not walk the aisles of hay to dream a winter barn.
Yet, among my transgressions are the tattered wings
of an old girlfriend review, poems of arrogance and pleading.
Among the lies they let me tell they knew the truth of them
and that is the sorrow gained. That harvest is my constant poverty.
Among appraisals of love those scribblings were delicate excuses,
words unsaid are secret dances where tenderness stumbles.
They have found their brave men so it comes as a surprise,
as memory squirms, to realize among my losings
there are beautiful consequences.
©2016 Frederick Wilbur
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