Sunday, April 10, 2011

Spring Comes Home

Fog and the sound of water in ditches.
A flicker stitching her call on the sky.
Spring comes home in the morning like a drunken wife
you were afraid was not coming home at all.


In response to this Morning Porch post.

7 comments:

Dale said...

It should not be necessary to remark, but probably is, that I have never seen Martha drunk in the thirty-five years we've been together. This is a poem. All that white space on the right is supposed to clue you in, there.

Bill said...

I've been worrying that she would.

Bill said...

(come home)

Uma said...

Like this a lot.

alembic said...

What Uma said (o)

Deb said...

Terrific imagery. As in imagined. ;-)

Sky said...

i just home she stays home and acts "right" for a while! this pacific NW climate has worn me out! ;)