Friday, August 30, 2013

Delicate things

photo source
A frigid breeze is sweeping across the yard.  

It travels in from Canada or somewhere far.

The entire house sighs from the weight of it pushing against the brick.  

I sigh too.  

The North wind is heavy and thick.  

It holds.

I feel it release. 

The fear is different each way.

Tangled up in dreams of yesterday.

I am ready to pack all my delicate things; like

the robin-egg satin blue box with the ring,

and move away.

Its sharp red ribbon unfolds in flight.

The rain is coming.

Lightening blinds my sight.

Clutching the box, deep to my chest

my bare feet breach their dry nest.

The plan is to walk.

And to find where the storms start.

Maybe clean my heart.

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