Peeking Out


The white lily

peeking out of the frozen

pond when my eyes close

from the fright

of the world

slowly opens to

reveal a lavender interior,

which symbolizes

the awkwardness of losing

the concept of awe.


I wash my face with

yesterdays rainwater

from the bucket by

the cactus row.

It is colder,

I say to noone.

The listeners have gone.


Peach lamplight from the study

spreads across the dew wet grass.

I catch myself watching

the brown leaves congregate

by the fence line.


Each metal spire keeps them

from escaping.

This is the harshness of our time.