This Must Be What Angels Miss
mid-June day
rare cool breeze tousles
my hair goose bumps
my bare arms reminds me
of Wisconsin summers
jets’ white vapors draw
a tic-tac-toe board
on cloudless blue my finger
marks an X
in the righthand corner
Midnight in Harlem
on Pandora Derek Trucks works
his electric guitar
into a howling blues solo
dry white wine refined
in vintage etched-glass one
of four stemware snagged
at the thrift store
poplar trees thick grass
hostas hydrangea
mandevilla pump the air full
of oxygen
and sweetness I gaze up
through swaying branches
twirling leaves catch
a stir of wings
9 thoughts on "This Must Be What Angels Miss"
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“etched glass….stemware snagged” really caught my attention. nice blend of sound and image
“my finger/marks an X/in the right hand corner” is beautiful and stirring. Also love your line-breaks, word-spacing, and limited punctuation. Very airy.
Poignant memory well written!
Beautiful Kathleen.
Beautiful day with a beautiful memory in a nicely made poem.
I’m sure it is exactly what they miss and what “stirs” their wings. Beautiful scene building to establish the glories of a beautiful day!
Nice slice of time. These are important moments!
Just lovely.
Angels would miss these earthly pleasures
Too bad for them they’re not here alive with us