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All is right


On the second day of 
after a dry
dry winter when the
rivers and lakes
have given their life
to the dry
dry sky

A feather dusting of 
in flat wide drops
is given back
at last
at long last

We drove homeward
through a flashing
orange pink sky
of silent bolts
to find them
on the lake and in the hollow
swamp beyond
in such fullness of voice
that the window panes
vibrated clean through
to the kitchen sink
where I washed
vegetables and swept

We lit three candles
on the back porch
poured two glasses
of pinot noir
drew the darkness
into our lungs
until our chests
ached with the voices

The sound of our neighbors’
voices speaking
Hindi on one side
Spanish on the other
the wheels of the trucks
on the highway
all drowned under
the layers of rasping
with one mezzo soprano
speaking a descant of
louder than
the billboards
on Orange Avenue tonight.

Poem & Photo © Jilly's 2016


A wild soul writing poetry.

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