Guest Poem by Deborah H. Doolittle

Deborah H. Doolittle’s recent publications include FLORIBUNDA and BOGBOUND, with some of her recent poems appearing in Ibbetson Street, Iconoclast, Rattle, Slant, and Stand. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee. An avid birdwatcher, she shares a home with her husband, four housecats, and a backyard full of birds in North Carolina, U.S.A. This poem is from Acumen 108.

Like Wordsworth in Wales

Who doesn’t like ruins? The old
stone shaped to make the landscape wild.

The fragmented walls, like thoughts, frame
the sky with Gothic windowpanes.

Now, blue is the preferred hue for
reflection that is wide enough.

Ivy climbs the parts of castles,
abbeys, crofter’s tumble-down huts

that jut from hillsides, ridgelines, and
hollowed out vales. Driving through Wales

is like diving into a deep
well of water from which we sip,

full of bitterness and regret
too tart and tangy to forget.