Almost time
The words writhe as they near the surface
Feeling the air is a quarter ‘til ready
Crisp
The pieces of the deep
that hot dry days have been holding secure
Under my arms
Tangled in my joints
Are awake and ripe, now
The light as it wanes in the afternoon
Whispers these verses to spread long in lines
Around my fingers and lips
Roasted pears I pluck from my ribs each Fall
To offer you taste
Or abandon on the ground
Almost time
To turn and find which you choose.
1 comment:
I feel this today
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