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Poems

Roots Always Growing Deeper

My mother hated winter,
could not bear the hard blue mountains
with their frosty white crowns
and those interminable nights
when all the ghosts came to settle by the bedside

bare tree in winter

Long-term Love

I have craved solitude
in the way that an addict knows she will die
without her chosen substance

two swans forming a heart

Silence

I am a forest woman
who holds a desert within her.

desert landscape and stars

The Belle of Amherst

Have you imagined me like a spectre
or delicate like baby’s breath, pressed
into the folds of my little handsewn books?

pressed flowers

What the Sparrow Knows

Bare branches become visible again
against a January sky—
the clarity of the day is harder than diamonds
and just as costly.

sparrow sitting on a branch in winter

Ordinary Saints

A cup of coffee is the holy grail in winter,
black, steaming salvation
sloshing against the rim of a sturdy, white cup
in a diner on a roadside
between the place you had to leave
and the place where your soul wants to be.

diner booth

I offer these poems as a sampling of my poetic style, but they may not be reproduced without my permission. If you share my work on social media, always give proper credit. If you're an editor or an agent interested in my work, please feel free to contact me

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© 2025 Jennifer Miller

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