Uneasiness Is What
       

Uneasiness is what I'd call it,
something just this side of concern,
though who can say how best
to measure the many degrees of anxiety
in these situations. Name the shades of green
in the grass after a storm, the red of the leaves
patching the mountain in fall. The wisteria twists
& climbs until, what was there, clearly,
before, must now be taken
on faith: the hill, its red clay
covered in ivy, the now-gone-to-seed
wild mint poking through; the creek,
its never-ceasing lullaby now faint,
now strong, now faint once again;
you, the one purple lily
in a bank of orange; you
the light that not even your absence
diminishes; you, this poem is for you.

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Copyright © 2021 Terry L. Kennedy All rights reserved
from South Carolina Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission