Leaves and ribbon race across the ground, frustrated
By passing whirlwinds, holly and chain-link.
A snake scribbles over red clay, like a memory,
Crawling under the sun and the bare river birch.
The sun shines in gold indifference. It's untroubled
By fading linens, by daydreams and bright lipstick.
From the window I watch the sky slip into color.
Sunlight and clouds conspire beauty. And the wind
Chases dead leaves in fitful bursts of curious
Distraction. My hair, old wire, plays gray. And brown
Leaves huddle against the diamond hem of your fence.
I close my eyes imagining you, and I breathe.
2 comments:
Nicely done.
The creative process is invigorating, isn't it?
I like "I breathe."
I have tried my hand at poetry from time to time. I stumbled upon some I wrote about six years ago when I was really in a funk. Perhaps I'll put it on my blog, though it's quite dark.
It is powerful to have "I breathe" at the end as I tend to inhale a poem and only as the poet lays me down at the end do I exhale.
I like it.
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