Featured, Poetry, Theresa Hickey

Dappled Days

by Theresa Hickey

The grandeur of sky and sea is awesome, but
in an orchard, one notices
small wonders every season

Each turn of weather
bears fruit, cleaving to the vines
clinging for clemency from storms

Dimpled valentines of berries,
tiny jewels—red and radiant
black and blue—fill baskets

Pierced in their prime, flushed
pinks and reds, noble nectars flow
from peaches, plucked from branches

In autumn, apples line rows of meadows.
Succulent still, as once to Eve; the apple’s
robust beauty tempts each hidden desire

Hardy seeds become the fruit of life
and we, our sight and taste reborn
from fertile soil the farmer tills,
are awed in silent ways
as we eat our fill
to offer thanks and praise
for dappled days

 

This poem appears in Theresa’s poetry collection, Shy, published by Finishing Line Press.

Featured, Poetry, Theresa Hickey

Of Water and Sea

by Theresa Hickey

We, who dot
        the parched land, need oceans
                   of resiliency to sustain prevailing winds
                             that we might grow in courage
                                         that we might not grow old
                                                               before our time

We watch as tides
        come in-go out, but rarely do we
                   seek the comfort of the sea
                             to show us mercy, refresh us
                                         so that dreams do
                                                               not run dry

Breathe in—absorb her wisdom,
        each ebb and flow spills out a melodic mantra—
                   a universal mother,
                             she carries off upon her crests
                                         the fears a cynical world provokes—
                                                               as we breathe out

With every breaking wave,
        each shift of current washes us
                   as we become reborn
                             destined to become her children—
                                         powerful
                                                           free

This poem appears in Theresa’s poetry collection, Shy, published by Finishing Line Press.

Contributors, Theresa Hickey

Theresa Hickey

Theresa Hickey’s poems reflect a love of the coastal communities in which she’s  lived or to which she has traveled. Views of Buzzards Bay and lovely Cypress trees are just beyond the desk from which she writes in her Dartmouth, MA home.

In her third collection of poetry, Shy, published by Finishing Line Press (2020), Theresa’s words embrace natural surroundings and seasonal changes she has come to know as they inspire her quiet time and motivate her writing. Retired from Salem State University where she wrote media releases in support of the Center for the Arts, her writing takes on a more creative bent without regular deadlines to meet. A wife over 50 years, mother of four, grandmother of seven, she enjoys daily walks and appreciates the laughter and surprises that devotion to family life has brought.

Her poems have appeared in Still Point Arts Quarterly, Halcyon Days, New England Memories and other journals.

View Theresa’s poetry in New England Memories:

Poetry, Theresa Hickey

Gray Day

by Theresa Hickey

Raindrops chime against
a metal watering can left outdoors
among seedlings, yet to be planted;
unopened bags of loam
lie neglected,
stacked obelisks awaiting sun.

As rain ripples, begins to pool,
it gathers in gutters
along the potting shed
before cascading
in sheets along matted ground.

I sip morning coffee, lukewarm,
cool feet against smooth surfaces of tile,
eyes, not quite alert from rivers of sleep,
ideas, slow-rising from dormancy.
What lies ahead from this infant-of-a-day?

A clock ticks, insists on flicking
immediacy upon the present.
Should I go off to perform rituals,
begin gardening when the sky
clears, check items from a list?

I want only to remain here,
to look out my window—
embrace this small contentment
dwelling in the quiet
before contending
with a less-than-perfect world.