August 31, 2014 § Leave a comment

I set the rocker in motion
and turn to watch her
as she follows the flight
of a moth from hydrangea
to lawn

she has picked the lock
of contemplation, silently
slipping me the combination
with a smile
every chance
she gets

leaving me captivated
by the way
life has bled
from the season
we just left
into the one
we’ve just entered

and with all that came along
evidence of care
evidence of love
every sustaining
morsel to be eaten
with the tips of fingers
as days
enter with a bow
and leave
with a tip of the hat

(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead


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