Love
empty wine bottles-
binging our favorite series
into the wee hours
–
dying embers-
our feet under
the afghan
empty wine bottles-
binging our favorite series
into the wee hours
–
dying embers-
our feet under
the afghan
the last day of spring-
apple blossoms ride on the
late afternoon breeze
–
barefoot-
crab apples
in the grass
at the podium
a wool blanket wraps itself
around my tongue
–
summer sun-
snowy cotton
waiting for harvest
the clouds and your eyes-
my head in your lap amid
a field of daisies
–
a dry vase-
tired blooms
bow their heads
this fight is over
and yet I find myself still
walking on eggshells
–
fallen trees-
we drive home
in silence
by a forest stream
above the frogs and crickets-
winter stars appear
–
late spring thaw-
fox kits cross
a fallen oak
friends and enemies
all are but dust as I wait
for mortality
–
a dark attic-
old records
gathering dust
heavy water jugs-
her small bare feet unwashed and
calloused from the road
–
the rivers edge-
awaiting her turn
in the water
bitter on the tongue-
the hot bilious taste of
someone else’s fear
–
an owl’s cry-
the field mouse
frozen
gentle snow falling
a dog at his owners grave
clawing at the earth
–
winter evening-
your rocking chair
empty