Cold Spring Park
A poem by Jane Attanucci

Cold Spring Park

I’m out the door
nearly every day,
something my mother
never did.
To leave the house
untended was, for her,
So many children,
like the woman in the shoe.
Oldest daughter, I pushed the twins’
stroller round & round our suburban block.

Now I walk outside,
morning sky lying
still on the water,
leafless trees draped in plum blue
shadows & daylight chill.
My mother’s eyes never
glimpsed these fragile woods,
white pines high above the aqueduct,
fallen oaks along rambling paths.

Decades in her grave,
the steps she didn’t take
Yet she remains—
I carry her.

About the Author:

Jane Attanucci has published poems in a variety of journals including PoetryBreakfastThe Pittsburgh Poetry Review and Thrush Poetry Journal. Her first full collection, A River Within Spills Light, was released by Turning Point in the fall  of 2021. She lives with her husband in Newton, Massachusetts.

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