Thursday, April 3, 2014

Innuendos

The way the steeple juts
from the church top
like somebody’s zealous
overcompensation.

The way the woodstove creaks
in expansion as the fire builds inside;
the way it readies itself for stoking
and the lingering afterglow.

The way the wind presses
its finger to the lips of a dandelion bloom
just before hushing it into gentle spasms
of letting everything go.



Stoneboat Literary Journal - Spring 2014

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