This entry is part 14 of 27 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2014


So much that’s hidden away
in every room: drawers full,

boxes crammed, each years’
store of all the things

at which the heart at one time
pointed, saying Please,

I need, I want
And I want to lighten

what weights the skiff,
what slows the quaver in

the sparrow’s song, hurling
itself above the corded wave.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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