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Mel Schorin writes about nature and other things. He published a book of roadkill poems titled Raccoon Sympathy. He lives in Cambridge.

Blossom

Mel Schorin

The robin who watched
white flowers fall to fruit
and catbirds and cardinals know
where the best sweet-cherries grow,
dangling safely while they darken
high above the dirty roots.
One day they’re ripe,
the birds wake hungry;
they race gray squirrels
to pierce their pointy mouths in tender skin.
Each bloody bubble sits
as if it lived for this.

Sucker

A mosquito lit on my wrist
and I slapped before it bit me,
which it surely would have done
unless it wasn’t one.

— Mel Schorin

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