Florida seasons baffle me.
Dead magnolia leaves litter the sidewalk
like tan leather mittens
while white patches of pusley
mimic snow on the grass.
Blue violet Speedwell
hides in the lawn like tiny pansies.
The neighbor's Mimosa tree blossoms.
It's odd to my northern mind
to see flowers in November.
Here in the subtropics,
I am perpetually lost in time.
Tag: time
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TIME
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WAITING 1963
Each night I wait. I watch out the window. I count cars that appear on the road. See their headlights grow then dwindle as they continue past on two lanes heading north. “If I count ten cars, he’ll come.” “If I count twenty…” I hope we will drive to the light and talk and laugh but he may not appear. I sit at the window until late, the night gone. Disappointment’s my reward. All evening I'm held hostage to hope. My job – suspense, submission. His – choice and power.
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GRANDDAUGHTER
She touches me as if I'm rock or tree immune to time and gravity, impervious to woe. The twenty years we’ve left (with luck and grace) invisible to her. In her constant now our cardinal sings the mac ‘n cheese is hot. We walk the stones in her backyard our sacred spot. She will have time enough to seek me in rocks and trees when I’m gone. Today she leans against my jeans and turns me briefly immortal.