Long Winter

So much I’ve forgotten

the grass

the birds

the close insects

the shoot—the drip

the spray of the sprinkler


the heat of the Sun

the impossible


the flush of your face

so much

the high noon

the high grass

the patio ice cubes

the barbeque

the buzz of them—

the insects

the weeds—

the dear

weeds—that grow

like alien life forms—

all Dr. Suessy and odd—

here we go again?

we are turning around

again—this will all

happen over again—

and again—it will

“Long Winter” by Tim Nolan


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Filed under Yellow poetry (enlightening)

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