The Morning Porch

Dave Bonta November 28, 2014 2

Cold and bright. When I open the door to go in, the wind blows a titmouse in with me. It flies from window to window, clawing at the glass.

2 Comments

Louise
10 years ago Permalink

I like this. Actually I’d like to see this built up into a longer poem. It reminds me a bit of Tomas Tranströmer.
1. Dave Bonta
  10 years ago Permalink
  
  Thanks for the suggestion. Hmm.

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