by Meg Freer
Ginkgo in Fall
Miniature fans
lie like gold charms
scattered beneath the tree
bring to mind the ginkgoes in Hiroshima
that survived the blast
still thrive
Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Inspired by nature and human nature, as well as by music of all sorts, her subjects are wide-ranging, from her old dishwasher to centipedes to egrets to family dynamics. Her poetry has appeared in many publications, both online and in print, including Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Spillway, Peacock Journal, Moss Piglet, New Verse News, Jerry Jazz Musician, Rise Up Review, Your Daily Poem. It has also been exhibited with art quilts and weavings as part of poet/fiber artist collaborations. She can be reached at: poetwax38@gmail.com.
Meg Freer is an award-winning poet and piano teacher in Ontario, where she enjoys the outdoors year-round. She has published two poetry chapbooks and holds a Graduate Certificate with Distinction in Creative Writing from Toronto’s Humber School of Writers. She keeps visual images in her head for a long time and her inspiration for poetry and photography often comes from intriguing juxtapositions, clusters and angles in both the human and the natural world. Highlights of her published work can be found on her Facebook page.