5.14.2004

Ripples

There are so many long long ways.
In my house of winter,
All windows face east

Toward spring,

And the driveway slurs
Into the edges of the world
Like each color of the rainbow,

Melting into the next,
Or like two words
That sound nearly the same,

And summer slowly rises,
Like water in a storm,
Into winter's throat

Singing quietly.

I step out my door
And see a cloud cut across me,
And suddenly, it resembles

Your hand scooping me
Out of the water.

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