Sunday, August 30, 2009


He said he learned by watching me,
but I hadn't meant to teach.

I stretched to fill our spaces,
sprawling out comfortably,
long conversations with myself.

And the sky,
it would not be ignored.

He became a blur
while I smiled with tears in my eyes.

As my wondering when he'd return faded,
a small white moth nestled
into the rug beside my foot.

It was fearless and stood its ground.

I knew it would eat my sweaters,
but I could not kill it.

1 comment:

  1. Such a perfect summer poem. It has a haze of gentle slowness which I adore.