(For James)

Written for

(For James)

What's better than blue?

Blue and rust.

corrosive etching under glass

ticking like nails

drumming on slate.

The wind in my face

ever present, ever cold

the distant signs keep me warm

but leave me dry.

I'm dry and blue

like the drowned metal

rusting my desire

with a mercurochrome memory

I seem to be missing.

Feature time!

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EmptyEventually,
     Even the pain
    
                       Grows
                                  Dull... A Half Pint of FigsWe had cornbread with dinner tonight.
I went to the pantry and got a half-pint jar of figs-
"FIGS 2013" scrawled across the top in your script.
I cut my square of cornbread
And spooned two small figs on each half-
The crop last year was small in volume and size.
And as I ate them I smiled and I cried
They were sweet and delicious
And I pictured the small trees
Next to the garage where you park the John Deere.
After dinner I rinsed out the jar,
Dried it and put it on the top shelf-
I probably put screws and nails
And buttons and dice in it.
When you are gone I will open it
To hang a picture-
And I will smile and cry again. Elation
a crowd of blossoms
dancing in their breeze-stirred joy.
My heart dances too!

The End Of FebruaryThe white tulips I bought at the market are in motion.
Their progress too slow to notice
but they are stretching,
stretching their necks,
swanning toward the pane of the window.
Each one striving to outdo the other,
sun starved; a tip toeing
arabesque out of the vase.
I can hear them sighing.
Onward, and with graceful movements
green and white declare their space.
They curtsy on stage.
Linda R. O'Connell © 2014:thumb359266656:

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