Retreatable

When the breeze begins
to burn and fire pit flames
grow too high and hot,
she stands close by.

It’s when things cool down,
she sees her error.

Alone in the yard,
she slowly steps
backward—the direction
she knows best.

It pains her
not to run.

Everything silent, still
under a slate sky,
she removes herself
with an eye on a worn life

preserver with wings
propped against a fence.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s