Free
Verse
Through a
Window
I stare
through a window at the mourning doves
who have landed on the railing of my deck.
The bigger and presumably older one
pokes its beak into its feathers,
ruffles and rearranges its coat.
The sleeker and smaller one peers around
with the amazed curiosity of the young.
In unison they turn as if sensing
the steady beam from my eyes,
joined by invisible thought.
Imagining
Death
is this what
it’s like
a fog bank lacking the impatient horn
a ship’s sad bell
no going to sleep to wake in the morning
no rolling over to see if sunlight
filters through the curtains
no stretching tight legs muscles
no splash of cold
no chill acidity of orange
no bright yellow yolk
to spill across the white
plate of morning
lashes loosely stitched
arms stiff as wooden boards
the cushion of breath retreats
bliss ushers in
a host of angels
chorusing a favorite song
No
Horizon
One day when
no horizon marked the sea
when clouds formed mountains
where no hill had ever stood
out from the mist two sailboats side by side
one glowing as if flame had stitched its sails
the other trapping shadows of the wind
around them in that blend of sea and sky
the bell-like tones of half-forgotten songs
Climbing the Brain
Unhook the
phone, arrange the bench and sit
to study thoughts that stream across the brain
like neon news that flickers in Times Square.
Tomorrow I must… plentiful the tasks that lie in wait,
the memories of loss and thoughtless words.
A novel sport — ascending walls inside the head
while dodging lightning bolts of thought.
Demons molded from a life of fear explode,
Silence grows. Open space appears
greater than the distance to the stars.
I hear our dreams are dreamt by other selves.
About
Peggy Heinrich
