Fall Equinox

Time is relevant—to me.
I worry about how many
years I have left to hug
my daughter, how many
years to wait for grand-
children. I worry about
everything: pulling
weeds, writing poems,
doing homework,
paying bills. I worry
about the orb-weaver
living in my lilac bush.
Does she see the sun
cross the sky in her
window of leafy greens?
Feel the Autumn breeze
play on her web? Does
she know it is almost
time to give birth to a
new generation? Almost
time for hers to end?
And still, she repairs and


Poem by Nancy Beauregard


Nancy Beauregard lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with her daughter and two feisty Maine Coon cats. She holds a BFA in Creative Writing from the Institute of American Indian Arts and is presently working towards her MFA in poetry at Western Colorado University. She has won several accolades and scholarships for her creative writing. Her work has appeared in the Santa Fe Literary Review, Sky Island Journal, Earthsigns, The Great Isolation, the Student Tribal College Journal, and in her poetry chapbook called I Heard a Train.

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