Vox Populi
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Dawn Potter: Late April
Once I was a child ashamed of my small delights, picking my nose secretly under the rhododendrons as the scent of spring earth and old cement spread like the chill breath of the underworld. Ghosts shimmered on the broken doorstep, rising through dust to become my own new skin. I did not imagine a world without ghosts— nor the end of wonder, dust swept away.
Copyright 2023 Dawn Potter
Dawn Potter is the creative director of the Frost Place Studio Sessions as well as the director of the Frost Place Conference on Poetry and Teaching, both associated with Robert Frost’s home in Franconia, New Hampshire. Her many books include Accidental Hymn (Deerbrook Editions, 2022).
Vox Populi 
“Ghosts shimmered on the broken doorstep”–ah!✨
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This is a wonderful poem about childhood and what happens, unfortunately, as we age.
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Gosh, everyone! Thank you so much!
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A gem, Dawn!
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yes, it is!
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This lands so perfectly and leaves such longing
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It really does…
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I love her poems too!
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Exquisite poem, an evocative watercolor.
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Yes, I like the way she balances the light and shadow.
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I adore Dawn Potter and her thoughts in verse!
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As do I, Sean. Thanks.
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