Linda Conroy

Something More


A wish, a way to move into another land,
to carry past the envelope of childhood hopes

to confidence of adult days. To carry self to spaces
in between, the parts that we forget,

the rare sand trickling through the cracks
where seeds grow tempted by a drop of muddy rain

lit only when the slanting sun is overhead. I wish
the fruits we ate were sold here still, the sultry red,

those summer nights, the sweetness of our life,
the times and us, temptation and the thrill. I wish

I’d caught the shadows stealing past the football posts
whose sundial angles told the time we must go home. 








Tanka for These Times

Living quietly
dreams uncover spaces
in my mind
hidden for years.

Can I forget the virus     
if I sit outside
watch trees flirt
with the wind?

I can’t see your face
my friend
can’t hear your sighs
will I guess
or read between your lines, and wait?          

I choose rocks for Holy Week      
white, flecked with sin
laid in a bowl with leaves
our fence a communion rail
some things will stay the same.





Linda Conroy is a retired social worker who uses poetry to show the simplicity and complexity of the behaviors that make us human. Her spiritual poems have appeared in The Penwood Review, Psaltery & Lyre, Soul-Lit and other journals. She is the author of Ordinary Signs, a poetry collection.