No Two

This entry is part 79 of 95 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2010-11

Days past the last rain and the creek
sings in a lower key, like a boy turning
into a man. The water’s clear, learning
again how to be blue. The minnows know
how pebbles make a splash then eddy,
no two marks ever the same. The girl
who used a stool to clamber into bed
last night it seems swings her long
woman-legs over in the morning.
And then before you know it
they’ve gone away, leaving the braided
grass, the tire-marked lane, the rusted
gate that creaks in the slightest wind.

Luisa A. Igloria
03 03 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.

Series Navigation← Meditation on a SeamGhazal of Burgeoning Things →

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