Equinox

The fireflies have met up, had sex & died
—nature can be as efficient & cruel
as mankind—while I watch each day cut
& paste itself into something smaller.
Dragonflies swerve like the flight of my
incessant 3:00 a.m. mind. Why does the
living of life never quite add up—to life?
I guess that’s why some of us spend time
with God. I can hear the field these days,
no need to look. It’s singing morning,
noon & night. I feel the Mugwort’s burning
edges—September tasseled in Goldenrod,
the falling of the light, a quilt last night—
the need to know someone is listening.

MIRANDA BEESON

Miranda Beeson is a poet, educator, and editor. Her most recent collection of poems is Wildlife (Spuyten Duyvil, 2023). She teaches all over, including at Poets House in NYC. As an editor, she works with poets on the creative arcs of their manuscripts. The two sonnets in this issue are from a new book-length sonnet cycle. Learn more at mirandabeeson.com.