It's Still Life

I.
On the Porch

Last summer is caught on the barbs and wire,
in the shadows of tumbled hay.
The barn door’s slack,
the hinge has drawn back,
and up there the cat watches
from the old wood beams.
It plays with flies –
all the mice have gone,
and I drink my tea, and
watch last summer caught in the lines of fence.

II.
The Choir

Too many notes for one voice to sing,
for limber throats, throttled, bound.

Candles burn, a tune of smoke and scent,
and light pours through the windows.

Heaven sent.

 
for Napowrimo Day 18 – (a revision type exercise)

It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity. I’m following three different sites generating daily prompts. Writers’ Digest Poetic Asides, the National Poetry Writing Month website (NaPoWriMo) and my old friend, Walt, over at Gnomes. All of these pieces are drafts.