I leaned in
Bert Haverkate-Ens
I leaned over
the sink
and was struck
full in the
face,
really, it was
more
of a glancing
blow,
no really,
it was a warm
caress,
so unexpected
that I nearly
ducked
my head.
Well, I dodged,
and then I
leaned in.
It was only the
winter sun,
looking in,
only to touch
my face,
only to remind
me
of its concern.
I left the
dishes
and ran off
with the sun.
Really, we
walked together,
silently, warm
against the cold,
remembering old
times.
2 comments:
Winter sun: when it comes here, it is such a joy. I'm reading a book called Circe. She is a daughter of the sun. It is a great book--well written and of course, great story telling.
I wrote this poem about five years ago. I was reminded of it again when leaned in.
Post a Comment