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Four Lines

isn’t it inevitable
that the day my phone doesn’t charge
i’m stuck in a beige waiting room
listening to Frank Sinatra

Poetry

Four Lines

we’re beset by an ill-tempered
wind blowing a southwesterly
tantrum of last-year’s leaves, upturned
cans and old lawn chairs

Poetry

Four Lines

I hope when I am old I can
sit in a comfortable chair
asleep with my nose in the air
and insist I’m awake deadpan

Poetry

Four Lines

it’s morning and the wind blows
west upriver dimpling the water
just enough to become a prism
scattering sunlight through green leaves

Poetry

Four Lines

I watched the wings of a great blue
heron scoop two half moons of air
spindly legs and extra-large feet
trailing

Poetry

Four Lines

does anyone else remember
lilacs on warm spring afternoons
filled with the scent of purple blooms
and the sweet sip of their nectar

 

365

Four Lines

I swear the river breathes deep just
before it rolls over the dam
for I can see its exhaled breath
lingering in the air

 

Poetry