Her Footprints
Fresh snow on steps
reveal her footprints -
evening has painted
the garage, yellow
squirrels leap over
steep banks of snow
a black crow circles
dried toast, she tossed
from the second floor…
small red beans attached
to thorns coated in ice
break as the sun
disappears dripping in
twilight.
Her round pedestal table
is cold, naked without
her cloth and dried
flowers, cluttered with
sympathy notes –
the wind picks up
and the notes scatter.
Nancy Duci Denofio
All Rights Reserved
MUSIC is POETRY are words we hear day and night, words which flow together and become a part of our day.
No comments:
Post a Comment