One of my yearly summer past times is to visit the nooks and crannies in my home and clean. I find scraps of poems everywhere. Here are today’s findings:
My only visits to the garden lately
have been at midnight.
Only the roses, with their butter-soft faces,
appear in the light of the moon.
I don’t walk to the apple grove anymore;
too many to pick, my children are gone.
I grieve the loss of daybreak baking.
mmm, trying to remember the inspiration – dust bunnies don’t talk…..