Our friends had flown north again to see us.
brought their babies, were grateful for our help:
the red juice we served in up-side down bottles.
Others came as well.
Came in winter colors
their breasts not yet rose
coats, drab.
We sat by the window
and wondered of the plan:
the perfect song, low and repeated
we didn’t need to understand.
And this was our joy, simple.
Holding the brush with both hands
while the paint was still drying
the edges yet uncurled.
-Penny Freeland
Penny Freeland is NYC transplant now living on the beach in Cape Hatteras. She has been writing poetry and songs before she could hold a pen and had to memorize the work. Penny holds a BA from Queens College and an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her poetry has been published in renowned journals including Rattle, Big City Lit, Eclectica Magazine, Red Booth Review, Austin International Poets, and other esteemed publications, highlighting her dedication to the craft of writing.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
