Friday, March 11, 2016

Under way

From A Neighbors Yard

Our house lies at berth
a liner bleeding brass
spokes of light
that fan the pocket
porch tucked beneath
its snowy blanket. 
Ashore to shovel out
on the trailing
edge of this storm
one eye on the gunwale
should she cast off lines
gauging my leap
through a child’s
ecstatic chalkboard scribble.

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