~45 shades of movement
i. [tea]
we pour ourselves into moments as if we're fluid poetry steeped in tradition like mountains
ii. [window]
there is an outreach of glass over thick coasts and hills distant and cooling fast
iii. [swallow]
heavy words hooks in fishboned throats we gasp for air grasp blindly at the westwind
iv. [daisy]
in the dark we can count petals like strangers meeting again in silence in spring
v. [pond]
there just past the willow lanterns ripple across distilled water and become a folded reflection
vi. [rain]
there's a moment of wet kissing old and familiar grandmother's hair drips onto grandfather's hand
vii. [road]
a destination unknown yet cadence found their journey so far south that narrow winding path
viii. [tree]
at the end there is something to linger history and roots to hold you back
ix. [mailbox]
an open shutter rattles its invitation to garden tea to reminisce about wind and bluebirds
x. [neighbor]
she's alone in a land so barren it makes me wonder if she'll ever marry
xi. [porch]
afternoons are always quietest so many azaleas
pinks and reds scattered about two steps away
xii. [cricket]
it transgresses to a state of small a note to signal the coming of wakes
xiii. [wind chime]
perhaps it mimics lethargy emptied of inertia unable to quiver even the tiniest of handbells
xiv. [incense]
the smoke makes whirlpools the humming does not stop until low tide mother is praying
xv. [dusk]
verse spreads the length
of legs
softens wrinkles
from her skirt
she dresses
for evenfall
xvi. [bed]
she wakes
to frustrated sheets
sometime after dawn
the pillow left
for a corner unloved
xvii. [moon]
the longest hours are
barefaced
bareboned
dilated eyes stare
spellbound by
the ordinary
unreflective smiles
xviii. [wind]
the living room stiffens you want someone to air out the blue or other melancholy
xix. [letter]
there's confusion in the
vernacular
like an undeciphered
alphabet
yet your signature is the
same
xx. [dog]
there is one more thinking about you a long howl and the moon moans too
xxi. [door]
this house, lonely
with shuttered pane
goodbye peels like
paint
isn't red a welcoming color?
xxii. [sand]
there is more to burden than still water so faraway brown and orange in edges
xxiii. [garden]
cobblestone paths lead us to empty benches scent of peonies carries us past clear streams
xxiv. [river]
this little bottle empties into something more turbulent rapids of whitewater to wash your words
xxv. [frog]
caught between cattails
and greenglass
still letters spill
linger there among
the medley of
throatsongs
xxvi. [reed]
be careful of meadowlarks you might stumble into autumn bending to part a soft song
xxvii. [shadow]
notice how midnight narrates
poetry
rhythmically
in couplets
like a message emptied
behind the ribs
xxviii. [lark]
there is but a whisper to sooth wingtips crossing another water on wednesday in winter
xxix. [gate]
swing subtly
unhinged unrestrained until we come together like sunrise to dawn flowering pink jasmine
xxx. [dream]
sober and steady I--- the perfume of bloom in cupped hands a fragment of dawning
xxxi. [autumn]
september arrives
just before the tardy
bell
dressed for weather
starched gold on
wrinkled burgundy
xxxii. [train]
and there is a coming and going between stations overlooking the east- the west candor
xxxiii. [distance]
initials in heart-carved bark must measure pressure between limbs trees grow fullest near waters edge
xxxiv. [feet]
past the fence five steps from the closest sun you try to steal the light
xxxv. [clock]
tell me about the
hands of gravity
how breath descends
slower than an aching
voice
xxxvi. [cafe]
it is worth waiting you think as snow piles in inches as the coffee cools
xxxvii. [coffee]
another thirteen hours
of caffeine sleeplessness
to decipher
the juxtaposition
between beans
and tea leaves
xxxviii. [newspaper]
at dawn when you wake you must know there is more death in the obituary
xxxix. [pigeon]
a mere observer
to the cadence of flight
its soft grey lift
sonata of wings
xl. [park] we've been there that path around the grove a temporary of us of weak whispers
xli. [lake]
our last visit to the dock
feet dipped into
the baptismal blue depth of
knowing
xlii. [ice] we part with tongues cooling the surface the apology under the cold with the fish
xliii. [stranger]
invisible
like a standstill fog
as perforated smoke
curls into
empty-armed echoes
left to wait
xliv. [traffic] lines to march and maybe even april we will pause in the corner of serendipity
xlv. [passage]
and then read us
a thousand times
we're fluid poetry
steeped in tradition like mountains
lah 1.23.13 ©®
[springboard 15 word vignettes]