a poem, simply

a front porch is written
while poet sits with steps and sunshine,
realization that she is home.
the poem

walks past black dog, sweet
with cedar shavings and scents — lilacs
on chained links. daisies,

or something like daisies,
grow without hands and trowels,
without watering can. rain

dampens paper, and the pen
isn't noticeably missing
until nightfall.


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copyright d. dixon
2008


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