Harvest


The remains of this day

creak and settle

like timbers around my bed

like boughs abound my head

sighing into steel coils

and old bird feathers.

 

I open the window

before I go to rest

so that the smell of dew

will bring a hint of you

I rise to catch it

before the robins do.

 

for Rachel

© christine DINGLEY 2012

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