Taunja Thomson

Morning Run, October 2014

Clouds carry clouds
over treetops
throwing leaves down
into my hair while church bells
ring. On the ground:
piece of gum
flattened into the shape
of a swan.
Over low broken wall
woods scatter and burn
thinning to a drizzle
of titian and blond.

No Hiraeth

In March the moon sits
in a sky with grey pearl
clouds rolling.
It seems the crows
those black candles of winter
have left.
Snug under snowy contemplation
I have dreamt of blue topaz
water    mud    sun-baked wind.
Yet no hiraeth here: frog and mushroom
foxglove and ivy
heron and koi slowly
eclipse a landscape as sharp
as a diamond point.

Night was setting

rose-black
while sky bloomed
over darkness,
wound vines and pale
moon all morning,
shaped flowers softly.
Woman hid, crept and loosely
formed ardor, purple petals
trumpeting glorious
silent dawn.
Until dew
lay upon grass
she had not known green.

Author Portrait

Taunja Thomson’s poetry has appeared in The Cincinnati Poets’ Collective, The Cincinnati Poetry Review, The Licking River Review, The Aurorean (2014), Lime Hawk Collective Arts Journal (2015), Really System (2015), Squalorly (2015), Wild Age Press (2015), and The Cahaba River Journal (2015). Her poem “Seahorse and Moon” was nominated for the Pushcart Award in 2005. She is currently working on a collaborative chapbook of ekphrastic poetry. She resides in Kentucky with her husband and six cats, where she practices collage craft, terrarium creation, and water gardening.