Monday, February 23, 2015

Poem #24

Scarlet awakening
Crisp dawn of winter
No sailors here to take warning
Just an old woman
with tea in a blue-and-white mug
Its rounded body warm in her hands
The evergreens toward the park
incise their triangles
against the red rise
A minute later
though probably more like five
the crimson has faded to pink
like the rosy-fingered dawn of Homer
that line of translation
welling up from some long-ago learning
The light begins to blue the sky
the pink fades too as the tea cools
to drinking heat
She leaves the kitchen door
with its view to the coming day
Sits at the table
with its bee-gold cloth
and writes.

Jill Kelly, January 2015

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