dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: breeze

when the rain rests
right over the breeze,
the trees and grass feel it-
I do, and you.

so how come when news
brews above your tongue
no siren’s song
sears my skin?


she sells
butterfly shadows
and handfuls of
cantaloupe strings
in a summertime stand
just off the fringe
of highway dust
and blurry pavement heat

she gypsy flings
earnings to
the breeze until
sound brushes through
her hair like wind chimes,  
dimes roll from pocket seams
like dreams,
not missed
unremembered


One plastic red cup
Anchored down with water weight
Was our sun as we orbited
The splintered picnic table.

Dipping long paintbrushes
Into our pond water paint,
We like cavemen drew
Crude designs on rock canvases.


More smooth brown stones
In a basket of rusted wire
Waited to be turned miraculously
Into the object of our appetites

Some might say
Our soggy paintbrush strokes
Dragged across dirty stones
Vanished with the summer breeze,

But my fingertips absorbed each drop
Just before they blew away
And now, racing in streaks up my arms,
The droplets display their color.

.