Distance – Page 30

a candle and spoon-
unresponsive hazel eyes
far beyond my help
–
first snow-
yesterday’s news
line his shoes

hard rain pelts the trees-
a hummingbird takes shelter
on my windowsill
–
desert noon-
seeking shelter
beneath the sand

strange and foreign shores-
weary travelers embark
on their next journey
–
soft underbrush-
a fawn turns to the
welcoming sun

earbuds on silent-
subtly eavesdropping on
your conversation
–
sudden chills-
mantras I whisper
to myself

mirror finished steel-
chrome and crimson upwell as
I lick the razor
–
melting ice-
warm and salty
on my tongue

worn jungle jacket-
three tours couldn’t prepare him
for life on the street
–
cold sweat-
desert sands
abrade his dreams

hands neatly folded
pinstripe suit and crisp linens
so properly posed
–
early sunday morning-
freshly turned earth
and rough sawn pine

threatening storm clouds-
filling sandbags to ward off
the impending flood
–
a neglected barn-
keeping vigil over
rising waters

a black bitter pill
taken with a glass of bile-
so hard to swallow
–
november morn-
the push is over
now I taste salt.

low distant thunder-
the smell of fall in the air
as the rain rolls in
–
sleeping cats-
outside the rain
turns to sleet