poem 40 of a poem a day for 2012

 kitchen table  

red curtain window
I look out from my table
to its' glow certain
across the backyard
of silhouetted trees
begging for Winter

what do I see
what does it mean
is the person
behind the light
writing too
or is it just
the leanings,mad
that I love like rust
that no one notices
until it's a full bloom

what looms
a poet to go
to where nothing
congeals a focus
if stared at too hard
the easy magic
of our eyes is in the let go
the work of nesting here
where you are
is in the ruminations
the slide step divinations
that dictionaries seem
not to find much room for
in what a red window
might mean or how
a lean one way
or another
can weave time
thread breaths
that hold themselves
in ghost vigils
for the whats
of our world
instead of
the whys

EJR (c)