a long hot shower on an ice cold day

By Orry Shorys Kerr

i arrive home at sunset with pockets stuffed with hands.
the sky is wide and full of clouds and smiling lights
reaching out from my cityscape surroundings.
where did all the day go, when will the light grow back, how will spring swing open the 
door, scuff their shoes on the mat, and settle down once more?

the stretched horizons at night beckon me with radiant arms,
with pupils pressed against steamed window panes.
the clouds like colossal pink airships drift with dusk winds.
what if i could sail up with them, piloting billowing pillows across the atmosphere,
without care or compass or concern for below.

i creak open the latch of the bathroom porthole,
to spy the days end,  searching for other vessels with silhouettes and whispers, with my
cold breath reaching out to dive overboard.
into the shower i step, high-pressure jets drown out the evening birdsong, 
feasting seeds in a garden freshly thawed.

long shadow spells cast via the washing line frame
like a monument over a sea of drowsy grass blades,
polka-dotted with splashes of daisies and dandelions.
a feast for bees fetching a nectar supper as twilight wanes,
and i hum summer lullabies out the bathroom window.

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