Grey hair in streaks, falling straight down.
Friendship, translucent and strong as fishing line
Books, stacks of texts, leaning.
Paper birds, emerging from the wet, hempy mash
Disagreement, and dissent.
Chickens in the back 40.
Raised boxes and their bees.
Voice, a cool shaded pond.
Bob.
Tomorrow, empty canvas.
— for Susan, Day 12, Poetry Month
