Delphiniums in a Window Box by Dean Young

[miserbrothers]

Every sunrise, even strangers’ eyes.

Not necessarily swans, even crows,

even the evening fusillade of bats.

That place where the creek goes underground,

how many weeks before I see you again?

Stacks of books, every page, characters’

rages and poets’ strange contraptions

of syntax and song, every song

even when there isn’t one.

Every thistle, splinter,

Comments

[miserbrothers]

I am here for you

[teithiwr]

This is charming in a really fragile, beautiful way.