Taste
embers burning low-
on the rim of my wine glass
crimson lipstick stains
–
lingering-
ruby lips and
a good bordeaux
embers burning low-
on the rim of my wine glass
crimson lipstick stains
–
lingering-
ruby lips and
a good bordeaux
delicate saplings-
bending to the fickle will
of the winter wind
–
bare branches-
a light dusting
of fresh snow
southward flying geese
their long journey just begun
as mine is ending
–
warm boots-
my old dog’s
snowy muzzle
by her bedroom door
listening to my daughter
cry herself to sleep
–
leafless boughs-
no resistance to
the howling winds
echoing silence-
bodies strewn haphazardly
on the downtown streets
–
an absence of birds-
villagers gather fish
in the receding sea
heads bowed in respect
under an overcast sky
the flag at half mast
–
rising winds-
halyards ring
the flagpole
early summer hay
cut by hand and harvested
drying in the sun
–
short shadows-
winnowing wheat
under the burning sun
november evening-
skeletal trees charcoal black
in the fading light
–
graveyard’s edge-
bone fingers
in the mist
you can take my heart
and do with it what you will
I’m finished with it
–
driftwood-
sand dunes
strewn by the wind
cold and sterile rooms-
the emptiness of being
alone here with you
–
makeshift rafts-
icy waters
devoid of life