The fog as a wreath
About the mountains lies,
Above as a crown
Behind gray clouds, the sunrise,
At noon the thunderstorm arrived –
Nature’s Christmas coronation.
It’s a struggle,
The celebrity’s vocation,
You wrote
Inside a Met reproduction note
A gift for me.
You finger painted your perfume
For your invisible signature.
On the envelope’s blank backside
You wrote, simply,
Open me.
On the gift card I sent
For a local hardware store
Where for tools we always went,
One item prepaid,
A ladder.
I left a voicemail,
Climb on me.
After professional careers in Southern California, Ron and his wife retired to West Virginia, where they raise cattle and keep goats and horses. He has written poetry for personal pleasure since he was 16, but only with retirement has he written poetry for publication. His work has appeared in Constellate, Prometheus Dreaming, Fishbowl Press Poetry, Truly U Review and Nymphs. Poems are forthcoming in Bonnie’s Crew (UK), Better Than Starbucks, The Cabinet of Heed (UK), Broadkill Review, The Failure Bale (UK).
“You finger painted your perfume
For your invisible signature.
On the envelope’s blank backside
You wrote, simply,
Open me.”
Thank you for this.