AN UNFINISHED POEM

Photo by S. Auberle

snow skittering down the road

this morning, the only color

two cardinals

and withered apples

on forgotten trees...

inside, windows steam

but there is a yellow egg

on the old blue plate

I ate from as a child

and the haunting notes

of Brian Boru's March

adding to sweet melancholy...

only nine hours

of daylight today

as Solstice nears

dark at four p.m....

last, brittle leaves

fly away in the wind

taking words with them

the ones I would have used

to finish this poem...

~ mimi