Cecily Parks

was when I slept in the woodsbareheaded beneath jaggedstars and the membranousnear-misses of bats, whenI tasted watercress,wild carrot, and sorrel,when I was knownby the lilac I hid beside,and when that lilac, burdenedby my expectations of lilacs,began a journeywithout me, as whenthe dirt road sang, O,rugosa rose, farewell,and ran behind the clippedwhite pine hedge intothe immeasurableheartbreaks of the field.

Feature Date


Selected By

Share This Poem

Print This Poem

Cecily Parks is the author of two books of poetry and editor of The Echoing Green: Poems of Fields, Meadows, and Grasses. Her newer work appears in The New Yorker, A Public Space, The New Republic, Best American Poetry 2022, and elsewhere. The poetry editor for ISLE: Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment, she teaches in the MFA Program at Texas State.

Cover of April 23, 2018 New Yorker

April 30, 2018

New York, New York

David J. Remnick

Poetry Editor
Kevin Young

The New Yorker is an American weekly magazine featuring journalism, commentary, criticism, essays, fiction, satire, cartoons, and poetry. Founded as a weekly in 1925, the magazine is published 47 times annually, with five of these issues covering two-week spans. Although its reviews and events listings often focus on the cultural life of New York City, The New Yorker has a wide audience outside New York and is read internationally.

Poetry Daily Depends on You

With your support, we make reading the best contemporary poetry a treasured daily experience. Consider a contribution today.