Now, Frozen

 

       Created for springtime, 

my shoulder    wants

walking dogs joyful leash tugging

forest paths

 

games of catch      balls

low     leather mitts graceful            

                                              lofted

              into hands       

                          of small children

 

 

seeds     turned

into        sharp scented   wet earth  

peas   beans radish   lettuce   green grass   rhubarb shoot 

  water and hoe

fork edger rake   trowel

 

 

This year’s shoulder      refuses

to   lift   hold          embrace   

whirl             twirl in circles                the size of the moon

seized       into throb knife-blades of pain

 

frozen immobile 

 

 

Common, say doctors

in athletes and women     

    years of strain               overreach

all we have carried

through so many seasons

 

now wintered in.

    

 

Now, Frozen

(in Gyroscope Review 19-4 Fall 2019, p. 32  www.gyroscopereview.com)