Free Verse
Stopover in Orange Hours. Honorable Mention in October Challenge.
End of the line And that’s the last bus Next one’s tomorrow But who’s to say when that’ll be We have a strict dresscode Informally enforced We have plenty of loaners Pick one That’ll suit you just fine The streets are awash In soft orangey glow Like setting suns Or smiling gourds Casting shadows on homes With peculiar geometry And never mind the translucent gazes From attic windows Or the occasional mob of giggling children as they race into the fog Especially at midnight You may notice The cats are all black here Occasionally calico And yes they are watching And they know more than you One may act more familiar And ride on your shoulder Divulging insights That you’ll forget once you leave But all the while The cooling air holds you Carrying a well crafted bouquet Of warm smoky fires Wet fallen leaves Sweet with cider and cloves And comfortable clothes And you may hear The pitter patter Of drizzling rain in the woods Mixed with light cackles Or seductive whispers of your name While white and blue moonlight Accentuates the spindly fingers Of naked trees And similar dancing Best to avoid Unless that’s your thing But you might not come back And you borrowed that outfit So… Best stay on Main Street Or a few cul-de-sacs And in gray comforting day The kind smiles of folk Clad in overalls, flannels, and homespun sweaters Carrying covered dishes And mason jars of various nectars Greet you Sharing the filling of bellies And the sweet tang of home With handshakes And lingering hugs Of melancholic parting Before you watch our town From the rear bus window Be swallowed in mist and snow As you hold the flat, dry hand Of oak and birch in solace
By Aaron Morrisonabout a month ago in Poets
