A Reunion

All day, the rain drips on the redbud,
but the puddles in the alley are
oil pools on rubber mud
and the finch on the window’s ledge
keeps asking why I am still here

All day, the train rocks you to
the chorus of the memorial hymn
you won’t let yourself forget,
but quickens the beat of your return

At twilight, I open the door to you,
spread arms in stuffed backpack,
and between us a pot of sunflowers
lies tipped on the porch,
flooding a space already full



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s