New windows in the old neighborhood
within a system of long held walls.
The wind is high today,
I realize that no structure is sound,
no ideal unwreakable.
The new house is going up, for now
the sky is its ceiling. The partitioned rooms
resound with April's apple blossoms.
There is a tentative conversation going on.
It feels familiar, and yet adrift,
dreamy, as if walking into the past
where the future has been stacked like 2by6 boards.
2 comments:
Beautiful words! Beautiful art! Thanks for sharing them both.
Thanks Julee!
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