Winter Sun
Hidden behind a cloud,A blank, white eye.
Old Sleeping Bag
Rolled, hiddenBeneath the bed like an
Aged memory
Of my mother's childhood.
The flowered fabric sleeps,
Pink daisies and
Black-Eyed-Susans.
Untitled
Amber sweetness fadingTo deep brown and bitter brew,
Half an inch of yesterday's tea.
White-Out
Phantom,The music building veiled
By snowfall.
Plowed Snow
Smooth white and ridgedShadows warring
Along the bank's speckled spine.
Harp
Red on black,On white on gold,
Wood grain and harpstrings
Harmonized in my embrace.
No comments:
Post a Comment