Bed
almost a month now-
how can I still be finding
crumbs in our bed
–
fresh coffee-
your side of the bed
is still warm
almost a month now-
how can I still be finding
crumbs in our bed
–
fresh coffee-
your side of the bed
is still warm
sitting on my couch
not sure if I can get up
after shoveling
–
rabbit tracks-
a snowy owl
motionless
hushed and reverent
watching the moonrise and the
rebirth of the year
–
midnight-
snow falls over
the farmer’s field
another phone call-
your tired face deeply etched
with dissapointment
–
drifting snow-
fox prints near
an empty hutch
the incoming tide
laps the shore and erases
our sandy footprints
–
whispering surf-
driftwood
in the reeds
the walk to the car-
turning my jacket collar
up against the wind
–
aging-
cold breath
on my neck
a lovers embrace
two hot tempers intertwine
leaving just ashes
–
falling snow-
crackling in
our fireplace
freshly cut lilies
pure and white and beautiful
laid upon his chest
–
city streets-
a blanket
of fresh snow
ahead of the dawn
plodding bleary eyed into
an ashen twilight
–
flannel sheets-
coyotes barking
before the sunrise
my cupped hands hiding
the glow of a cigarette
behind the garage
–
cold rain-
ignoring my phone
before last call