This entry is part 14 of 41 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2012


That calm: before?
after?— The storm.

The pause
that brackets

the feathered cry
at dawn— The rooster

trills Deny, deny
And still the waters

rush across the pier.
The turnstile

at the station twirls
in place. A wall

is shorn away to show
the flimsy hive.

The branch comes down
upon the roof.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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