What hope grows in the throats
of reflected trees, wondrous wooded dreams
pooled together like a scarf spooled
down the back of a child,
not worried where it may wind up?
What are reflections if not homages
to something larger, perhaps a portal
for Autumn winds to escort colorful leaves
like thread, drawing a home
wherever they may wind up?
Phillip Knight Scott is a native of Durham, North Carolina, where he lives with his wife and son. He has published one book of poetry, Paint the Living, Plant the Dead, and one novel, The Alien in the Backseat, which can be found along with new poems on his website, phillipknightscott.com.
Selected by the editor as a featured submission, August 2022