Monday, December 11, 2017

Eucalyptus, sycamore, peach, plum


The other shoe — has it dropped yet? Or are you still waiting?

It’s a funny thing, sitting here in the early morning quiet, knowing full well the roofers will be pounding away again by eight. In a strange way, although it is a bit hard on the ears, I look forward to it. There are different kinds of storms. Because I also think of war, and dwellings crashing around those who made the tragic mistake of being born. We get a new roof and they get

Has it dropped yet? Or are you still waiting?

Twenty-four degrees this morning.

And I’m glad you’re here.

I remember moving wood onto the porch of my childhood home. From the door, it was a short direct line to the fireplace. Eucalyptus, sycamore, peach, plum. Words, sweet on the tongue.



4 comments:

*** said...

Still waiting,
but it must be getting close.
I can hear the swoosh of the air
as it passes my ear on the way down.

And now I hear, thud thud thud hiss groan.
It's a great comfort when the job's finally done.

William Michaelian said...

And to see the poem it’s become.

Thank you.

*** said...

... it is just a note that happened to stack up that way.

William Michaelian said...

Yes. Perhaps. I don’t know. But I was also referring to what you were describing.