Before the Harvest

 By Lee Marcus


A tiny wasp finds a red peony
bursting open with sunshine, drinks
until slow and satisfied, moves voluptuously
to the tomato leaf waving nearby

Soon the fruit will come and more
hungering avians might visit
and you might even see them
if you look up from that glowing screen
and open those unseeing eyes, even
if you have to squint. You might
watch a backwards zipping hummingbird
dance from lavender to honeysuckle
and back again as the sky turns scarlet.

And when the moon widens then
wanes and daylight births again you’ll
remember how you are a part of
all of this, more than anything you
think you’re part of, because unlike
the glass and metal in the palm of your
hand, this is real, a pulsing web


Lee Marcus is a High School English Teacher from Brooklyn, NY. His work has appeared in several online publications. When not encouraging young people to engage in academic discussions about poetry and prose or inspiring them to improve their writing skills, he enjoys yoga, running, walking his dog, Chef, and the joys of being a new parent.

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