December 10th 2015 | speechless

Showers passed through this morning. The night had been warm. The roads glistened and the limbs were black. The birds had finished off the sunflower seeds. I filled the feeder.

·

thunder
····in December—me, the chickadee,
···········speechless

·

I broomed the bridge behind our house nonetheless. The drive into town was an autumn’s mud season. The roads were slippery and I had to use four wheel drive. Before I can shift back into two, I have to stop the truck and shift into reverse.

·

It’s a late fall in Vermont.

·

this
····way that—the girl’s boot prints chasing
············her boots

·

The mother carried the girl’s purple umbrella. And as is the way with me, I wished I could live a little of everyone’s life. By the end of the day and home, the sun spilled fitfully into the house. There wasn’t much. Winter solstice is only a few days away.

·

not
····enough to broom—December’s sun on the kitchen
············floor
·

34: December 10th 2015 | bottlecap

2 responses

  1. I knew someone woul do what you have just done — rip my vocabulary out of my mind and heart and leave me wondering how do I begin to tell you how I FEEL with silly little sounds, syllables that don’t satisfy. “Leave a Reply” How? I simply can’t. But I can FEEL it…I just can’t say it. I suppose THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME FEEL is the best I can do…

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