Poems by Ken Pobo

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Clear Cutting

by Ken Pobo

From Canary Summer 2012

Ken lives in the Lower Delaware River watershed in southeastern Pennsylvania.

A forest walk--we find
a stride, smell last winter
on dead leaves. Trees
block some sky but the sun,
on gold stilts, walks
in clearings. Driving home

we pass stumps,
busted branches. A forest

gutted. Ghosts of pines
and birches search for where
they left their roots.


by Ken Pobo

From Canary Fall 2016

Mom’s gone, the path full
of last autumn’s leaves
and her kindness. In the spring

forest, a stand of hemlocks
(growing when I was a kid)
almost 100 feet tall.
A black-throated green warbler
tends her nest. Gray bark,
as if November painted
the trees her favorite color.

Stillness. Pinecones
lump the forest floor,
soft needles under our shoes.

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