By the Window

I’d like to live with you
In the valley northwest of town,
Between pines rising
And falling to the river.
And the things the stones say
To the river passing through.
And in the valley where we live—
The thin light
Of mornings pour down through branches
Like creeks that flood into our house.
And sometimes, afternoons, from the small kitchen,
You sing,
You sing by the window.
And your voice floats at the windows.
And if you didn’t love me, I wouldn’t mind.

– After M. T.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s