She was looking at me with a whisper-thought
That went through me like an arrow.
Her hair was tousled like a bed to be smoothed
And her posture was not the day ready usual.
They say you don't really see beauty
Except in the aging of one you love.
I was watching her like a winged-in, branched hawk
Might watch a home in through a window
On a cold February day, with ice-frozen footprints
Leading back and forth to a tilting, off-square shed
Just over the tree line in the backyard.
I could see the warm hearth glowing in there,
I knew it was cozy there, safe there;
I heard her soft persuasion brushing over me
Like a downy breeze that ruffles feathers
Used to be soaring through the blue yonder winter sky
Feeling the bitter cold on my eyes but protected
Inside my little plume body.
"It's a long weekend," she said.
But I already knew.

02/16/2007

Posted on 02/16/2007
Copyright © 2026 W. Mahlon Purdin