a long night

on the edge of sleep

even crickets are silent

window fan drones on

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Languid

sun crisping brown skin

melting bones into Earth like

cherry popsicle

summer

fresh cut grass wafts through

the open bedroom windows

my bare feet stained green

The ways in which we deal with anger

I brewed tea

in your grandma’s blue crystal pitcher,

setting it on the window sill

all day while I worked

until it was strong, deep

.

two spoons sugar

stirred into your glass

already sweating in the heat

before it languishes

barely tasted

on the counter

leaving watermarked rings

.

I take my tea

in hard, fast gulps

unsweetened

relishing slightly

the bitter aftertaste

lingering behind

then I rinse my cup

and put it away

voyeur

a thick-cut slice of

freshly baked bread slathered with

my blackberry jam

I clandestinely watch your

white teeth sink into the crust

 

 

Thinking today of smells, the way they evoke emotions and connect past to present …

juxtaposition

sun-faded red brick

white paint peeling from the door

a shiny brass key

 

sultry summer night,

I lean into your doorway-

Nina sings the blues.

silk robe slips from shoulders,

pooling softly on the floor

 

Triggered by Janet’s lovely photos of doors at https://sustainabilitea.wordpress.com/2019/08/07/thursday-doors-todays-favorites/

gently

moonlight dusts the planes

of your face, casting shadows

you smile in deep sleep