Morning (Not Quite Sprung)

Morning (Not Quite Sprung)

In this house, we hear the stream summers,
but now the burble of humidifier shushes
the dawns,
which still shell us latish
what with the time change.

When I say ”shell’, I speak of opalescence–
not firey bursts of wake-up–old houses built as shields
against weather.

We lie together, bundled oblongs
beneath that pearled arc, waiting to be
cracked open or boiled whole–the days have been
hard lately.

You nest in the covers murmuring
in the blended burble of humidifier and
my elbowed apologies (for all those shifts and sips),
that I’m not bothering you, meaning
stay next to me,
and I say, I will.

 

***************************

Poem belatedly posted for Shay (Fireblossom)’s wonderful prompt on Real Toads urging the use of metaphoric language.   The pic is of a light sculpture by Jason Martin. 

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2 Comments on “Morning (Not Quite Sprung)”

  1. Sherry Says:

    Oh, so sweet, those closing lines. I love the opalescent dawns as well.

  2. Kerry Says:

    I especially like the poignancy of the final two lines.. they say a lot about the endurance of marriage.


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