Emily Pittinos

1 month ago | poets.org | Maya C. Popa |Emily Pittinos

Skip to main content Find and share the perfect poems. A few days after solstice, I follow bobcat tracks to the lake. The moss is glowing, the water all thawed, the cold a kind of wholly coat. A willow, bald without its leaves, towers over its frail reflection. I sit on a bench, begin to read old journals. Then I close my eyes and cringe before that girl, the younger me, makes another bad decision.