Saturday, August 29, 2015


MARIA A. ARANA
Before My Commute

morning greets tired eyes
entering through open window

clouds uncover
a drunken sun
birds mingle on power lines

like vultures
waiting to devour
what remains left

from last night
washed on the banks
of my yard

I smell the basil
planted out back
to keep the flies away

air cooled
on skin contact
it wakes

fingers reach for the rod
to close the blinds
to rich earth

cut into slabs
of places
we call home

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