Cataracts - Lorrie Ness

from this distance
red leaves may as well be berries

& i am no less right
now that my eyes have aged.

the idea is judgment improves
with time. the idea is

a tree line rubbed raw
in the haze —

a low fog milking further
up the valley

& you, running faster
into its clouds. your body

eclipsed, before your voice
can fade. shouting back

that a red barn reclines
across the pond,

how a heron’s legs
quiver through its wood.

& you are no less right
barreling forward

toward the illusion
that you see.

Lorrie Ness is a psychologist, bird watcher and nature enthusiast in Virginia. She particularly enjoys drinking coffee in the backyard and writing under a yellowwood tree. In her free time, she haunts the trails in the mountains where she finds inspiration for her writing. This spring and summer she is focusing on planting more native trees and plants to create a diverse backyard habitat.

She has enjoyed writing since childhood, particularly poetry. It is the activity that brings her the deepest sense of tranquility and peace. She has published in a variety of journals, including Thrush, Sky Island and Palette Poetry. She was twice nominated for The Best of the Net. Her chapbook Anatomy of a Wound is forthcoming from Flowstone Press later this year.