It’s raining again, and cold.
The herons we saw return to their nest
want their tree back, dry and green.
The neighbors cleaning ivy overgrowth
from their fence have long gone in.
But the hired girl stands in the yard
tying up leaf bags; she does not mind
the rain— Every so often she tips
her chin up, drinks from a can of soda.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Bitter Root
- [poem removed by author]
- Overhead, the thin high whistle of a tree sparrow—
- What Use
- Spring Evening
- Ad infinitum
- Cold Press
- Unto every one that hath shall be given;
- Round Mat #2
- Hagia Sophia
- A Softening
- To Love
- Flaming Heart
- (poem temporarily hidden by author)
- In the Eye
- Private: Fledgling
- Private: Fire Trees
- Instructions on how to play the mouth-harp*
- Private: A Shadow
- from Ghost Blueprints