Afternoon – Page 7

fingers cracked with age
settle on the well worn keys
of her piano
–
milky eyes-
memories of youth
and music

a dark bus depot-
waiting by the only light
for hope to arrive
–
dark wanderings-
only the moon
lights my path

summer at the farm-
the scent of hay and manure
permeates the air
–
white flicks of foam-
horses steaming
in the autumn air

curled up on cardboard-
nameless faceless commuters
pass without a glance
–
fingerless gloves-
dreaming of a home
not a doorway

a great bald eagle-
I’m forced to watch her greatness
fly on broken wings
–
a woodland pond-
the still water
brackish

winter at the shore-
sun bleached clam and oyster shells
blend into the snow
–
approaching storm-
sea foam white
in the wind

early afternoon-
a warm loaf of crusty bread
cooling on the stove
–
pumpkin candles-
easing into
a steaming bath

widening ripples-
a heron’s reflection
reaches the far shore
–
black water-
a willow branch
touches the moon

late afternoon sun-
illuminated dust motes
meander through time
–
first snow-
autumn leaves
across the threshold

talking to himself-
making his way down a street
only he can see
–
gathering clouds-
her eyes a shade of
coffee cream