Monday, March 13, 2017

Changing Light

Night creeps into the glass
figures on my window sill.
Shadows reveal layers
in the thick bud vase.
Its flowers hold only
a clue of red, a guess
of green. But the bluebird
and my mother's tiny cat become
three cobalt dimensions
and the street lights
are planets inside them.

2 comments:

  1. This, too, is a masterful poem: "a clue of red, a guess/ of green." Thank you for having posted this, the 4th poem you've blogged this month! There is such grace in your words. This reader is grateful.

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    Replies
    1. And I am grateful for you! Hmm, four poems this month . . . maybe I'm getting back in the swing of things :)

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