Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Read the latest from my poetry blog, “A Hundred Falling Veils“, where there’s a poem in every day. You can use this link to subscribe.
A Hundred Falling Veils
- Something Missing July 10, 2026We wandered through green gentians higher than our heads. Vast fields of larkspur, monkshood, paintbrush.Sour scent of hemlock, earthy scent of osha. Stones upturned by bears in search of grubs. A hundred times we gasped, enrapturedby the aspen’s greens. And every step,a blessing. Every step a chance to praise.Some days we can’t remember what it is we wish we […]Rosemerry
- Untranslatable July 9, 2026The language of grief is silence. —Maggie Anderson, “What Grief Does” No one can translate the language of grief.No verbs properly express how it collapsespast, present and future into a single tensein which all becomes unswimmable waveand at the same time immovable stone. No way to explain how in my grief lexicon the word cello can only be spoken in sob. How […]Rosemerry
- Four Upcoming Online Offerings July 8, 2026The Mystery of Grief: Writing into the LossWednesday, July 8, 5-7 p.m. mountain timeOn Zoom, recorded, hosted by Evermore For anyone meeting a loss or grief, no writing experience necessary. Please note that your confirmation email with your link for the workshop will come from Zoom. To register, visit https://secure.everyaction.com/jlxVP8TH2EOWc8nVxvuJuw2 * July 16Curiouser and Curiouser: A poetic invitation to […]Rosemerry
- A Blessing July 8, 2026At the edge of forest and field, a dappled fawn wobbles through tall grass, each step halting, delicate. Around her, the sweet clover blooms in a yellow haze. Ash sifts, from the nearby wildfire.Scent of burning, scent of change. Lyric variations of the song sparrow thread the air as if he isstitching together all that is here. Not pictured,but no less present: You. The sparrow. The flame. The […]Rosemerry
- Conditions July 7, 2026Sometimes, certain she has botched it all, certain she has made of the gift of her life a desert, something desolate and harsh, when surely she was meant to create something lush and verdant, something fecund, fertile and teeming with wonder, in that moment of self-inflicted despair, fueled by comparison, a woman might stand in the midst of that desert and hold in […]Rosemerry
- July 5 July 6, 2026Dad would lie on his backin the middle of the living room.I would step into his open palmson either side of his shouldersand slowly, he’d lift me into the air.I loved the wavering, the bobble before the balance, the moments of freedom when I floated above him. Today, when the concert ended with “What a Wonderful World,” it was only […]Rosemerry
- Reunion July 5, 2026After the kazoos and champagne and hula hoops,after the blueberry pie, after the napkins foldedand unfolded and crumpled, after the impromptuparade on the drive, after the house full of laughterand music, after the glow sticks, the glittering headbands, the mountain of dishes washed and dried and put away there was that moment when we sat on the […]Rosemerry
- One Citizen July 4, 2026fearing the flagno longer represents meI start to fly the flagRosemerry
- One Strange Gift July 3, 2026so grateful to share it with you—this lonelinessRosemerry
- The Unknown Women July 2, 2026They, too, once had gardens filled with succulent dark leaves and firmswollen roots they planted to feed their family, their community, themselves. They, too, would walk the rows and tug at weeds and make small, quirky bouquetsto take to the graves of their loved ones. I don’t know why their gardens are gone now. Perhaps covered in ash from wildfire. Perhaps bombed […]Rosemerry