A Portrait of Early March
The snow from yesterday
has melted into slush—
caressed by the sun.
A muddy paw print on the futon,
long-johns draped across
the creaky rocking chair,
outside the window swirling
clouds of woodsmoke:
the kettle on the stove
begins to sigh.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment