...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Friday, March 3, 2017

3. Backyard Sitting, Sipping

The day stood open, sky like clear
water, jet the color of fish
in a serene, sun-soaked lake.
Cup in my hand, half-full,
hand extension of will, unexamined
in habit and action—Thought through,
but not by me.

My arm lifts the cup to my lips.
The open door’s a hinge in the system,
encouraging, allowing movement
and vision avenues into other worlds.
You inside, the sounds you make
as you work a recognizable grammar,
a voice. Your love: engine-
flowering energy, troubled but present.

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