The neighbor woman is waving
from her porch in her house-shoes,
how 'bout this weather? Her child
is barefoot, crouched down at the lawn's
edge and picking up rocks you know
must be warm, what with the sun
already high as high.
And no cold
shoulders are in the wind. My trees,
still bare as bare, let more
light down than they will
in the full of green.
I wave back in acknowledgement:
how we know the day dovetails
another, and how we know
we'll be back in the middle
of it tomorrow so we'll take it
for what it's worth, a thought
stolen from winter's head:
what if I didn't have
to be like this?
1. South Side Exchange
ReplyDelete2. Warm Spell: A Question
3. Unseasonable: A Question
Or, make your own title suggestions.
Good thing this is the last one, so I don't have to keep saying, "Another favorite." I like Warm Spell: A Question.
ReplyDeleteAnd I think you've really chosen the best of the best to send out. (Either that, or we have the exact same taste in poems, which is possible, but not as likely!)
I'm leaning towards "Unseasonable: A Question," just because of the possibility it applies to both the narrator and the weather. Warm Spell seems restricted to weather. South Side Exchange too evocative of the city, for me.
ReplyDelete