.
The day closes
behind a screen door
branded with a bread label,
yellows and blues,
blues how appropriate
as I stand here, sore feet,
tired muscles watching the shadows
play in circles on the lawn
Two cats sleep on the porch
as if this day was like all others
with cloud formations
in unrecognizable shapes,
claiming another victory
with a blade and a sun beam,
both glistening in defiant smiles
While on wings of gossamer weavings,
beyond the crested and fallen snow,
she flies like the wind,
touching me in all areas,
engulfing me with her presence,
lifting me so that my existence
is only hers, and that is how it should
I whistle a happy tune
though this happiness, this poetry
is weighing on those who read
and even those who don't
which number many more
in counted blank margins,
straight line columns of silence
Still I reach, hoping for something
which takes a back seat to the others
who prove more talent, more resolve
in crafted words spelling that relief,
poetry that breaths in the soft reflections
desired in these eyes now weary...
the day closes...