The orchard keeps its own slow clock.
Apples let go one at a time,
as if the ground were asking politely.
I have been trying to learn that — …
Explore
Everyday life
4 poems
Love
4 poems
Cities
3 poems
Night
3 poems
Small joys
3 poems
Autumn
2 poems
Cities at night
2 poems
Grief
2 poems
Humour
2 poems
Leaving
2 poems
Faith
1 poem
Family
1 poem
Rising this weekSee all
Eleven strangers and one window.
We all pretend the rain
belongs to someone else.
You left it on the chair the way you leave a sentence,
half-said, still warm, expecting me to finish it.
I wore it to the market and the vendors called me by your name;
I answered, which is another way of finishing it.
Two keys, a receipt, the shape of your name
worn smooth in my pocket.
Leaves on the tracks: the driver brakes early,
the way you do around anything
that used to be attached to something.
The radiator ticks like it has news
and keeps it. Frost has written on the pane
in a hand I almost read. I choose
the blanket over reason, once again. …