Singing Oaks~ By Wendy Gist

I am not the wind; 
I am its cry.

I am not the sunlight;
I am the ripened peach.

I am not the murmuring current;
I am the creek.

I am not the scale’s rainbow;
I am the trout.

I am not the memory of;
I am the blush of the dying ember.

I am not the longhorn on the hill;
I am the roam.

I am not the rising; 
I am the moon.

I am not the wind;
I am the singing oaks.


Author Bio:
Wendy Gist's poetry, fiction and essays have been featured or are forthcoming in Amsterdam Quarterly, Empty Mirror Arts and Literary Magazine, Foliate Oak, Fourth River, Gravel, Grey Sparrow Journal, Illya's Honey, Juked, New Plains Review, Rio Grande Review, Soundings Review, The Galway Review (Ireland), The Lake (UK), and many other fine journals. A native Arizonan, she now lives in New Mexico where she serves as Co-founding editor of Red Savina Review. She's the author of the chapbook Moods of the Dream Fog forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. Can be pre-ordered @ finishinglinepress.com.