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
- The Loud Dawn Crow Writes to Rosemerry on the Day She’s Trying to Sleep In July 14, 2026I love your big green yard,love walking in your low cut grassin the early morning when it’s dew-lush and cool. Loveseeing my sister crows across the lawn.Of course, I call out to them.That’s what we crows do.That’s what you do, too, honey,when you walk down the street,say hello, even to strangers, because that’s what intelligent,social beings do. And […]Rosemerry
- Unlikely Saint July 13, 2026after Muriel Rukeyser Because two years ago, another chipmunk ate all our birdseed;because that same chipmunk ate all sixty of my sunflower sprouts—munched the entire row to the ground;because that same chipmunkdevoured every bright-faced pansy;because some part of me believesthat what I have planted should growfor my pleasure and not for yours;for this, I have decided to despise […]Rosemerry
- Keep Going July 12, 2026The sky is already past deep roseverging on bruised plum by the timewe enter the cemetery gates and walk up the hill to the gravewhere the ashes of the boy I love are buried.I’ve never been here so late. Didn’t know the flag pole was litfrom below so it looks like a candle,a tall slender flame, flaring […]Rosemerry
- Still Learning July 11, 2026long ago the door came down, still I stand at the thresholdof spaciousness, hand raised, wondering how to knockRosemerry
- 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