Sunday, January 20, 2008

All Things Considered

You uncurl like an early Sunday yawn.
Draped in paper robes and coffee stirrers
you absently listen to feathered conversations
outside our window-
till Linda percolates on the counter.



previously published in Maxis Review copyright 2003.

2 comments:

writerwoman said...

I like how this poem has a warm, homey vibe to it. It feels like the written equivelant of a happy home.

Anna said...

I like this, it is real. The last line did leave me wondering