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Archive for the ‘Morning’ Category

All those already at work may have windows too to write this morning

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At morning’s angle— bare trees reach into sunlight with golden fingers

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Chimney drafts creeping around my feet—some soul begs another entry

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The gray season goes white— empty branches of ash bear weight again

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Another plow grumbles by, casting clear seed to melt white soil

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Red paper cut-outs— eyes of a creature dissolved into the table

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The single red eye— coffee is ready and day is still very dark

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Puffy coats at bus stops— they’d pull arms and legs in if they could

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Sun never sees me trade night and day—it knows me only awake

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Beneath a streetlamp the last of yellow leaves wave— a skirt of light

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