Month: March 2019

The Russian Olive’s
spikey branches
reach out to the
rose bush, green
leaves a contrast
to the bare branches
of the Red Bud. I
drink my tea.

The grey sky hides

the sun from the

pavement that still

shines from last

night’s rain

“Sixteen kids in the
front porch light,
Louisiana Saturday
night.”

We whirled
around the kitchen,
dancing, laughing and
kicking off our shoes,
the children and I.

The sun warms
my feet through
the window

Riding through the dusk,
I see stories
behind
closed curtains.

Yesterday the daughters
came and went. Came
and went.
No time for a cup
of tea, just a few
words and a slice
of banana bread
on the run.
Until the last one
brought food and laughter
and time for a cup
of tea.

Across the street,
bamboo’s shadow
follows it’s weaving
dance in the
wind.