What We Look For

This entry is part 5 of 63 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2011


The cloud in search of lightning, the cloth
seeking the thunderous rip across the grain.

Gold leaf on a frame peeling away like ruin;
sorrow’s name written long across the water.

The keyhole’s outline of the beautiful one: that speck
waving, moving closer from the padlocked garden.

The cup on the table awaiting radiant downpour;
vessel poised for the tilt of the river’s skin.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Dear nostalgia,Without Translation →

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