Low slung sun
Briefly shaded by
Clouds casts golden
Gilt on the
Bushy tops of
Tall trees like
Shave cream on
My father’s brush
Lathered and waiting
To moisten low
Clouds that hang
Like a five
A.m. shadow while
Daisies yawn and
Stretch slowly opening
Like Chinese fans
This quiet morn
Here in Charlotte
And there I
Found you in
The forest glen
Standing tall majestic
Tree limbs spread
Like many arms
Cut you down
I did and
Made you mine
Decorated you with
Memories and small
Star like lights
Sang to you
Surrounded you with
Gifts tied in
Pretty colors and
Then after the
Season I undressed
You and left
You curbside why
Do I waste
Such beauty on
My own folly
The day starts
Sleepy and dull
Like tarnished teapots
Put to boil
Promising heat and
Tea colorless like
Sleep masks the
Greens fade and
Blend like watercolors
Everything is quiet
Even the colors
Drowsy morning here
The blue sky
Is littered with
Fluffy plastic bags
Wisps of bygone
Moisture reminding me
Of my grandmother’s
Hair blowing this
Way and that
Across her bluer
Than blue eyes
The clouds move
Past sky blue
Like snow drifts
In Wisconsin winters
Leaving only open
Burrow holes seen
Lower clouds hang
Like large spider
Webs as jet
Planes fly through
Fields of tall
Greens and soupy
Moss stand across
From me as
Wet streets purr
Under car tires
Here in Charlotte
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 