at the coffeehouse
and without looking up
she holds it out toward me
like fruit blown down
in an abandoned garden
glass magnified and made
dazzling by the sun
and burning blood
and gold
and I am far too old
for such foolishness
( A found poem among the last lines in Brigit Pegeen Kelly’s THE ORCHARD)
And thanks to Karen George for giving me the idea to try this .
2 thoughts on "at the coffeehouse"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You’re welcome, and what a fine poem you wrote. I love how it works on several levels.
Your first two lines put me in the middle of something!