On the eve the rustle
of breezes cicadas
drawn out in the light soaked leaves
our house inhabited
I remember
for tomorrow
A birdsong I have not
heard in awhile
although I am sure it has been there all along
A truth I am skirting around
a cat and his noontime nap.
Posts
1 comment:
You have me thinking of those shifts in life that illuminate certain elements of the everyday.
Post a Comment