by Melanie Browne
He sweeps his porch in the morning,
hoping to catch a breeze from
the east.
he knows about the foreign winds.
the suestado,the etesian.
He points to the places
on his plastic globe and they sip
hot chocolate, even though she scalds the milk.
He sweeps the leaves in a circular pattern,
leaving them in a little pile which
scatters again
in the afternoon.
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Enjoyed the images here, particularly the tangential scalding of the milk.
ReplyDeleteDitto, Gordon. Strong imagery in this poem.
ReplyDeleteIs that a typo with "foreigns" or do I need new glasses?