Nothing but gray – crosshatched gray
earth, gray sky charred to the horizon
through gray-scale branches. Then comes
rain, cupfuls in drops, and the rivers
reborn, soil learning again
to drink, violets rising to split gray
into green and purple. The ash trees
still stand bleak in their nakedness
but grass grows once more between them.
Soon a deer, who survived the fires
but lost her world to their darkening,
moves in, foraging, mouth open
to receive it – a banquet of color,
its light touch bathing her tongue.
Lisken Van Pelt Dus’s newest collection of poems, How Many Hands to Home (Mayapple Press 2025), joins What We’re Made Of and two chapbooks, Everywhere at Once and Letters to My Dead. Raised in England, the US, and Mexico, she teaches writing, languages, and martial arts in Western Massachusetts. (LVPDPoetry.com)