I can still remember the view
from the south window-
clothes blowing on the line,
willow tree, weeping, like me.

2:00 a.m. was a sanctuary
when thoughts, wrapped in poetry
nourished an impoverished soul.

I found refuge in patterns
as constant as grandma
in her blue and white checkered dress,
book of psalms,
corner folded to 23:4
lying on the sill, beckoning, come,
like his thoughts say
to mine,

but, one day,
I took two steps forward,
peeked out from a
much too comfortable

pressed into unpolluted air,
took a breath and danced
at the thought of such complexity
created, then, unraveled
in the silence of my own mind

~day 6 of NaPoMo,,,a poem a day in APril for National Poetry Month.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s