Poetry: Ryan Quinn Flanagan

Ryan Quinn Flanagan

Freckles Returned to Ecstatic Skin Man Strides

Leave it to April – that long winter 

retreat refresher, a sprawling promise of freshness:

words, poems, ideas;

so good to feel that spilling garden jug of Being,

the smell of atmosphere with budding green shoot rains,

a simple crispness and promise that fills the lungs

and loosens the arms in new spindle –

What I have is that long open grandeur 

of mountain waterfalls, freckles returned to 

ecstatic skin man strides, gaiting fawns 

through personal meadows – it is that type 

of lightness in the windows of the shops 

that begin to stay open a little later,

under a returning skiffle band sun to warm the face 

and bones and soul that have refused to leave

this sluggish dust-packed den in so long.

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Setu, April 2023