One-Way Bridge
the unused chess board
in the empty hotel lounge
a line of small birdhouses
on the ground
some objects wait
in anticipation
turf roof of the shed
implies a mother’s blanket and the grave
earth took us in
out of the cold
by spring, the purple blossoms
crown the bitter chive
but when the wild swans took off
I was tongue tied, and forgot
what I was going to say…
July 9, 2010 at 2:54 pm
Such a palpable sense of longing in this sweet piece! For what? An object is not even necessary; longing in and of itself…tender, sad…it just stops you flat. Wow.