a long night

on the edge of sleep

even crickets are silent

window fan drones on



sun crisping brown skin

melting bones into Earth like

cherry popsicle


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


relishing slightly

the bitter aftertaste

lingering behind

then I rinse my cup

and put it away


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 …


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/


moonlight dusts the planes

of your face, casting shadows

you smile in deep sleep

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