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Pruning Burning Bushes
Pruning Burning Bushes
Pruning Burning Bushes
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Pruning Burning Bushes

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In pruning, a decision must be made whether to "either slowly hollow, heartwood rotting outward, / or grow from green into a fiery blaze in autumn." Pruning Burning Bushes is a collection of poems that explores the intersection of the natural and spiritual worlds with the personal and familial worlds. The book wrestles with this decision--to grow or to rot. Walking from the valley to the highest summit and back down into the depths of the canyon riverbed, the poems travel through the author's childhood filled with family and farm life, new marriage life, and subsequent miscarriages, the births of her children and deaths of relatives, and walking in the quiet waters of faith, sometimes raging and sometimes rejoicing.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 1, 2012
ISBN9781630879136
Pruning Burning Bushes
Author

Sarah M. Wells

Sarah M. Wells is the author of five books: American Honey, The Family Bible Devotional Volumes 1 and 2, and two collections of poems: Between the Heron and the Moss and Pruning Burning Bushes. Six of her essays have been listed as Notable in Best American Essays. She lives with her husband and three children in Ashland, Ohio.

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    Book preview

    Pruning Burning Bushes - Sarah M. Wells

    9781620323304.kindle.jpg

    Pruning Burning Bushes

    Poems by Sarah M. Wells

    Pruning Burning Bushes

    Copyright © 2012 Sarah M. Wells. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf & Stock, 199 W. 8th Ave., Eugene, OR 97401.

    Wipf & Stock

    An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

    199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3

    Eugene, OR 97401

    www.wipfandstock.com

    isbn 13: 978-1-62032-330-4

    eisbn 13: 978-1-63087-913-6

    Manufactured in the U.S.A.

    Acknowledgments

    Grateful acknowledgment to the following journals where these poems, sometimes in earlier versions, first appeared:

    Alimentum, My Mother’s Kitchen

    Ascent, Cascade Valley

    Christianity & Literature, Dent de Lion and A Christmas Poem

    Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA), Hymn of Skin

    Literary Mama, The ladies’ quilting club is out today,

    Measure: A Review of Formal Poetry, Sifted As Wheat

    The New Formalist, Singing Birds

    New Ohio Review, Making the Bed

    Nimrod: International Journal of Prose and Poetry, Interference and Rain Dance

    Poetry East, Casa Blanca Lily

    Poetry for the Masses, Junction

    r.kv.r.y, Daylily

    Relief: A Christian Literary Expression, Pruning Burning Bushes

    Rock & Sling, Honky-Tonk Bride

    The Table (Ashland Theological Seminary newsletter), Thunder

    Windhover: A Journal of Christian Literature, Angry

    Angry, previously titled, The Angry Gardener, received honorable mention in the Akron Art Museum’s New Words 2009 Poetry Contest.

    Several poems included in this manuscript were originally published in a limited-edition chapbook, Acquiesce, published by Finishing Line Press in March, 2009.

    Nothing is yet in its true form.

    —C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

    for Brandon

    and for Lydia, Elvis, and Henry

    Cascade Valley

    Look, my daughter, the pine tree

    dropped its seeds, and here

    a fragile sapling braves the forest floor.

    This used to be a birch tree

    but lightning sliced it, wind heaved

    its heavy breath and now

    the trunk is rust. Sticks once flared

    skirts of springtime buds,

    but now we throw the broken limbs

    into rushing floodwaters

    to see how quickly we could be carried

    away. Always a hair too close

    to the edge, pebbles skitter

    into the river. Let’s find our way

    back from this spring rage, out of the valley

    that catches what used to cling

    above. Climb this mountain

    with its tread marks, hoof prints,

    decomposing oaks—we are not the first

    to grow and fall. But see the way

    the leaves return to earth, the way the dust

    collects? Crocus blades emerge

    from crumbling stumps as if this growth

    does not take more than soil,

    light, and rain. Reach down, my child,

    bring

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