I’m
cooking dinner and
only
because the days are getting longer
does
the light still filter in
through
the clouded window that
needs
replacing
The
pane is nearly opaque
but
not muddled enough
to
keep my eye from catching
the
fluttering of a bird at the feeder
repositioning
himself
to
find more seed
While
I cut broccoli
the
baby sits on the counter
flapping
his arms
like
the bird outside
screeching
with glee
drool
dripping like honey
from
his mouth
the
bud of a tooth peeking
out
from swollen gums
I
set down the knife
and
sip my wine in the pause
while
through the tilted glass I can see
the
edges of the room stained
crimson
and swirling
catching
light
glowing
The rest of this poem can be found over at Elizabeth Marshall's beautiful blog
where Elizabeth weaves wonder and whimsy on a regular basis.
Elizabeth and I collaborated on Adagio: A Poetry Project,
an experiment in writing across the miles, twining words and heart thoughts together.
I am so very thankful for the opportunity to share, once again, with Elizabeth.
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