Taxes

numbers

forms

pencils

paper

scattered over the desk

me, scratching my head,

looking for glasses,

looking out the window to the blossoming pear tree

scenting the air. I breathe deep, pulling the spring to me.

Then put on my found glasses

to see numbers

paper

pencils

forms

slowly filling in

a click, a prayer–

done.

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About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, NaPoWriMo, short poems. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Taxes

  1. Dear Sue,

    I liked all your poems very much, in all their forms. On this one I especially like breathing the spring closer. It’s ridiculously warm here in Lancastr County today, and walking outside washes the spring over you.

    Cheers,
    Sheffe

  2. Theresa says:

    Exactly!

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