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Collected writings of Scott E. Pearce

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Tag Archives: Poetry

Deciduous Doxology

I watched The Poconos wake up this morning.
Out the door at five-thirty,
and across the Gap by six,
I was there when they started their day.

Posted byScott PearceOctober 13, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Autumn, Mountains, Nature, Poem, Poetry, RuralLeave a comment on Deciduous Doxology

The Dogwood Never Fails

An Ode to the Dogwood

Posted byScott PearceMay 14, 2022July 19, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Dogwood, Forest, Garden, Landscaping, Poetry, SpringLeave a comment on The Dogwood Never Fails

Tulip People

An Ode to the Tulip

Posted byScott PearceMay 9, 2022July 19, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Domestic, Flowers, Garden, Gardening, Landscaping, Poems, Poetry, SpringLeave a comment on Tulip People

Route 31, 4:37 A.M.

On a Tuesday
at 4:37 A.M…

Posted byScott PearceApril 21, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Poem, Poetry, Road, Roadtrip, Travel, Trucks, UrbanLeave a comment on Route 31, 4:37 A.M.

Magnolia Buds

Hang on, Magnolia buds, My dears! Hang on, Magnolia buds! Bear with this ill-timed Arctic air Withstand this undue frost. Nor let us come April into And fail to find thee there. March 28, 2022

Posted byScott PearceApril 19, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Flowers, Poem, Poetry, Rural, Seasons, Spring, TreesLeave a comment on Magnolia Buds

April 9

There are three things which I do not believe— four that I will never understand: The ninny who announces that she doesn’t like bacon, the philistine who posits improvements of baseball, the charlatan who espouses a god in his own image, and the ogre who identifies his favorite season without stating first and foremost, unequivocally,Continue reading “April 9”

Posted byScott PearceApril 10, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:April, Poem, Poetry, Seasons, SpringLeave a comment on April 9

The Last Bath

Will we know it when it happens? And (if so) how will we know? Will we know that we know? Will we be able to recognize it? . Will the moment herald itself   with the shout of an archangel? Or will we anticipate its coy arrival with   a kind of parental prescience? .Continue reading “The Last Bath”

Posted byScott PearceJanuary 7, 2022January 8, 2022Posted inPoetryTags:Children, Domestic, fatherhood, Parenthood, Poem, Poetry, TimeLeave a comment on The Last Bath

The Maples of Broad Street

The maples of Broad Street
have ceased to be tame,
The maples of Broad Street
are shaking their manes

Posted byScott PearceOctober 23, 2021October 23, 2021Posted inPoetryTags:Autumn, Maples, Poem, PoetryLeave a comment on The Maples of Broad Street

Cacophony

It must have been

an evening in early August

when ‘cacophony’ was coined.

What other moment

could have minted

such an awesome articulation:

the world’s most perfect word?

Posted byScott PearceAugust 10, 2021August 11, 2021Posted inPoetryTags:Nature, Poem, Poetry, Rural, SummerLeave a comment on Cacophony

Chicory

Ode to the summer roadside’s unassuming garland

Posted byScott PearceJuly 21, 2021Posted inPoetryTags:Country, Flowers, Pastoral, Poem, Poetry, Rural, SummerLeave a comment on Chicory

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