If I Step into the Light and Other Poems

by Megan Willome

IF I STEP INTO THE LIGHT

I might bloom.

A hummingbird might drink from my flower.

I might prefer to attract the orange butterfly,

might tip my petals just so, so he sees me,

touches me. I might get sprayed with weed-killer

(I am a wildflower). A heavy boot might

crush me. A kind hand might pluck

me for a bouquet, where I’d smile three days,

then wilt. Drought might kill me, or ice. Or

I might find I like sunshine, might discover

thunderstorms are more fun above-ground,

might pose for a photographer or a painter,

might let down my leaves,

a green waterfall overflowing her dark tower.

GOLDEN-CHEEKED WARBLER

She can’t quiet down

not while spring is at its peak.

Where oak and cedar meet

she makes her home.

She sports white siderails

with black eyeliner.

Endangered, she’s a headliner

found along Edwards Plateau trails.

She’s never left Texas.

Her head, golden as the sun.

Her song, should you hear it, stuns.

Her loves, they are reckless.

In tandem she sings gems. Her goal:

Sing cold.

Sing tired.

Sing hungry and whole.

MEGAN WILLOME

Megan Willome is a poet and author of a memoir about losing her mom and finding poetry, The Joy of Poetry, and a children's book of poems about crows, Rainbow Crow. She writes about poetry and shares poems of her own on Substack at Poetry for Life, where there is an abundance of red teacups. Some of her poems have appeared at Every Day Poems, Chronic Joy, and in Ekstasis magazine. When not scribbling with her pencil in a composition book bought on clearance, Megan enjoys singing soprano at church and walking in the dark.