Eternal Round Trips

If I leave now and give myself
An eternity, I’m told I’ll never
Reach the edge of our universe,
Whose incomprehensible contours
Would eventually deposit me
Back at my front door to which
I have just returned, arms laden
With chicken and eggs, thoroughly
Comprehending that I will never
Reach the end of my to-dos.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

School in Ideograms

S            The way I get from here to everywhere.           
C            Maybe sometimes it looks like I’m not getting anywhere.
H            Bridges between lines. Bridges all over the place.  
O            Doors. Sometimes they’re open. Sometimes they’re not.
O            My mouth, full of words and sounds.
    Do you want to hear them? All of them?
L            My foot. I’m leaving. Are you ready?
© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

Poetry in Ideograms

P         a magnifying glass
           held up to
           anything
O         an open eye,
           a funnel conveying
           words
E         fingers grasping
           or letting go
T         a sheltering tree,
           a handle on a shaky train
R         a dance, a jig, one foot outstretched,
           ready for the next measure
Y         joy

© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

Hyphae

Hyphae by TheAlphaWolf 2006 
Fingers poking through
the grass provide evidence
of the beast below,
a single fungal network
holding the earth together.

© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, 
all rights reserved

Wolves in the Woods

I know there are no wolves in these cold woods,
no bears, no foxes, no wolves, but I see
the hiding places, fallen trees, small mounds
of dirt, and branches just above my head.
I see the darkness here, but I can’t see
what’s hiding there. I hear the leaves erupt.
I know it is the sound of busy squirrels,
but still my heart suspects it might be wolves.
I’ve heard the stories about wolves and woods,
and children walking far from home alone,
the stories grown-ups told me before bed,
before they said the stories were not true.
I know there are no wolves in these cold woods,
But I am here, and I am full of thoughts.
© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved