Winter Sun
The
sun
Hidden
behind a cloud.
You
can look straight into it, a blank
White
eye.
Music
Words
foreign, yet
Beautiful. Allegretto,
Pesante. Words felt
But
not spoken
Are
music notes on a page,
Black
on White.
Old Sleeping Bag
Rolled,
hidden
Beneath
the bed like an
Aged
memory,
The
flowered fabric sleeps.
Pink
daisies and
Black-eyed-susans.
It
was my mother’s
When
she was little.
Untitled
Amber
sweetness fading
To
deep brown. Half an inch,
The
tea left in my cup.
Laundry
Tumbled
warmth, wine,
Teal
and white. Towels
In
need of folding.
White-Out
Phantom,
The
outline of the music building
Veiled
by the gray gauze
Of
snowfall.
Plowed Snow
Small
hill beside the snow-
Dusted
path,
One
side touched by sunlight,
The
other by ridged shadows.
A snow-bank.
Harp
Red
on black,
On white on gold.
Wood grain, harp strings
Together are harmonies.
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