Aspen Grove

by: Zebulon Huset

From the aspen grove
down here, the climber
looks like an ant
limping up an anthill
that’s been dusted
with powdered sugar.
So when the second
safety line snaps
it seems that he
hovers for a second
then slips down like
a spade-shaped aspen leaf,
an aspen leaf dropping
green toward the earth,
landing without a sound.
I am no ee cummings,
but that leaf seems
like the loneliest
possible thing to be.

 

 

About the Author

Zebulon Huset is a public high school teacher, writer and photographer. He won the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and his writing has appeared in Best New Poets, Meridian, Smartish Pace, The Southern Review, Fence and others. He edits the prompt-based Sparked Literary Magazine, back from hiatus this winter.