Sun slopes low through
Boston ivy leaves festooning
the window where I wait.
Traffic drones, chatty radio
sputters in the kitchen:
North Korea’s a-bomb is the
indignation of the nation.

The blue berries on the ivy,
relative of some grape
ready themselves to be winter
larder for shivering birds.

I bring new stories to the
paintings here, every day,
discovering who I am each time.
Table lamps deliver globes of
warmth and literacy
to their respective corners.

In summer I look out at
the river and far horizons;
the rest of the year,
horizons are pretty close by.
Winter’s weather wisdoms
are more reliant on
the gods of electricity.
The sun sinks lower every day:
respite is at hand.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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