poem – Page 8 – Broadcast From the Brain Radio

Do you wish one day to roam
Through the hills of old Welsh brome?
Tylwyth Tyg may sleep beneath
Those heathen hills and wake in gloam

C/older

There aren’t so many rowan trees
In our neighborhood
As there were a few years ago.

The one in our yard
Was cut down
Because the berries made a mess.

I didn’t even know
It was a Rowan
Until it was gone.

I didn’t love it,
Didn’t miss it,
Until I found out its name
Too late

And its orange berries
No longer
Popped color
Against the snow.

Neon and blue tile. Pancakes are grilling and coffee’s hot. Good morning!

The lines of Cassiopeia’s throne gave me all the stars in the sky.

Fretful steps by the Charles in my hoodie and flats. It’s February.