a deep warm burnt orange (poem)

the smell of baking bread in a loved one’s farmhouse kitchen
welcome – rich – holding promise
perhaps a rusk as when we’re small
it sounds a silent gong like the sun at dawn
watches patient – speaks in light
it will always be
waiting to be found

A. H (20th February 2021)

to boot

he brogued my ballet slipper reverie
how my tongue lolled
hot hot hot
that mocassin fall summer . . .

history repeating

in childhood i was often quiet
they told me i was patient – good
as gold, teacher’s pet, the prof, swat
honestly i didn’t know my standards
like Ginger Rogers equipped for going back
i had to take the lead, Miss without her heels
but is it even this, . . .

comparative history

my patient temple crashed to the ground
around the time we swam at Areopolis
and further south then flew back
bloodhound sick to Athens . . .

orienteer

come, pass with me
toward true direction
pick up my pace
understand my measure

A.H (6th October 2020)

xxviii (’20)

she’s arrived bent at this snapshot of her golden hour
her flame still whispering to the loves she flowers
captured for a moment as only what she represents
not the meanings she carries gold in heart
another grandmother from the fringes
. . .