Tag Archives: poem

The Dirt End

It has come down to
the dirt end of winter:
one last lucky penny
lost in my coat lining.

I had saved it to pay
for small
and flightless hopes.

Copyright Kay Winter

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Out of the Fog

Out of the fog
the soft sound of
cottonwood leaves clicking
as the drops fall from
one leaf to another
down time
to the blurred
by the door of the hotel
swinging open.

The smell of eggs
in chafing dishes
and the mixture
of morning colognes.

I want to go back
to the fog outside
the long walk here
and find the wet bark
and soft click of leaves.

Copyright Kay Winter

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Same Language

We spoke the same language
with different words
Always the feeling of light shining through.
Words like dust motes on Sunday afternoon.
A cloud of words
waiting for
the gush and scent of rain.

Always the feeling of light shining through.

The soft sounds of his jackets in the entryway
soft as snowfall
A door opening softly inward late at night
the streetlight shining through the dark window
lingering into the gray mornings
those long winters.

The snow covering our words.

Still, always the sense of light shining through.
The headlights through the snowfall
driving home.

We spoke the same language with different words.

The smell of coffee burning,
a dog barking a yard away,
a door being shut outward too quickly,
the goodbye on the other side.

Copyright Kay Winter

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Let me show you
how everything disappears
into the earth
except the stars of Orion
through the black branches.

Let me show you
how pale the morning light becomes
how slow and hesitant the dawn
how swift the sunset.

Let me show you
the last chrysanthemum
casting petals in the pure air.

Copyright Kay Winter

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The Long Way

I usually took the long way
starlight or clouds low
or the moon waiting to rise
behind the rag edge of black trees
already the shimmer of it
on the blue black lake.

The long way around anywhere
along the creek
the river edge
the last fenced yard
at the edge of town
tall grasses gold gray
in the light of the town’s last streetlight.

The long way there
lost, they said of me,
Didn’t you want to come?
How could I say yes, I did
but there was a place where
the sidewalk stopped
and became a path
that curved away
into the gray woods.

The long way home, too
Weren’t you tired? they asked of me.
How could I say yes,
but the moon was waiting to rise
behind the rag edge of black trees
and the glimmer was upon the blue black water.

Copyright Kay Winter

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pearl clouds, pale sand
we gleam in the soft light on still water.

Copyright Kay Winter

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At the end of
the long street,
against the
the slope of the hill,
the cloud bank
like an ancient

Copyright Kay Winter

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In Deep

In the days
unminded and alone
in the corner room
at the quiet edge of the house
during the gray holidays
I fell into words
and through the words
into worlds
distant from my own.

In the days
unheeded and free
by the winter window
I wandered into worlds
of dusk and mystery
and traveled with magic.

Copyright Kay Winter

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Blue Musette

dish of sky curve

bridge end
club doors open
to send

Jazz sax
halting piano
blues tracks

Copyright Kay Winter

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Did Not Tell

She didn’t tell anyone
before she went upstairs
for the last time
leaving her corsage
in the kitchen

He didn’t tell anyone
before quitting the team
and walking home the long way
skirting town
leaving the stained shirt
in a ditch with his

What they didn’t know
is that the dark box
for the light
to empty it.

Copyright Kay Winter

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