Her Open Window
Fresh steps in snow
reveal her footprints -
as evening paints her
garage a deeper shade
of yellow – as squirrels
leap over steep banks
of snow – a black crow
circles dried toast, she
tossed from her
second
floor
window…
Small red beans attached
to thorns - her bushes
coated with ice -
crack – letting color peak
from winters coat – the
sun disappears behind the
garage - near tulips
fighting to be born
again - near pears resting
on the ground. . .
Her round pedestal table
is cold, naked without
her special table cloth -
hand sewn flowers at the
edge - dried flowers
on display from last
summer. . .
Her pedestal table near
the second floor window -
now cluttered with
sympathy
notes . . .
A wind enters - from
her second
floor
window –
notes tossed
I rush to gather paper -
another gust of wind
enters from her
window. . .
Nancy Duci Denofio
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