Poetry: The Green Room

At the edge of the property

far from house and telephone

we lounge in two green Adirondack

chairs by a tall hedge.

Behind us redbud, butterfly bush,

a crape myrtle frilling white.

Down the blackberry slope

in front the creek gurgles

over round stones. Its cool breath

rises, blends with a breeze

from the south, drifts across

our summer-hot skin.

In this haven of leaves and flowers

I watch lines on your forehead

smooth, ease away.

About the Author

Patricia Wellingham-Jones is a former psychology researcher and writer/editor with an interest in healing writing and the benefits of writing and reading work together. Widely published in poetry and nonfiction, she writes for the review department of Recovering the Self: A Journal of Hope and Healing and has ten chapbooks of poetry.