One Week
two months of renewal whittled down
by the soft chisel of hours reading on the porch
or watching a heron stalk shadows in the reeds
while spiders dressed rotting beams
in silken camisoles.
Today, someone else, besotted by the promise
of one week, arrives at another cottage.
She’s planned, saved, and now unpacks
to enjoy hours undisturbed
except for the sun’s quiet rise and fall,
the whisper of water hushed at the shore,
and wind breathing out wild fragrances
gathered from the flowered path.
She’s unaware that one short week lacks
the stretch needed to repair
cracked walls and fallen bricks of her past.
I too did not know this, nor do you know it
unless once evicted by despair, you relocated
your impoverished self into
a wealth of time.
(For more by Carlene Tejada and “Blue Pearls” go to www.totalrecallpress.com or www.amazon.com.)