This entry is part 6 of 15 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2014


What will not last? What will
remain? Three flies buzzing
behind drawn window shades.
Shrouds carpet the grass
at dawn. This kind of frost
evaporates before noon. Take
what you can but choose wisely—
the fruit that you love, the fleshy
globe in whose heart sits a stone.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Dia de los MuertosA dove calls and calls, →

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