By: Emalisa Rose

Tears on the tumbleweeds

Under the cluster of clouds
tears on the tumbleweeds
cradle your casket, with
the heart of the rain playing
redemption for both of us –
two stubborn sisters
forsaken of chance to exchange
“I forgive you’s.”

###

With winter wings

A couple still linger
though most now indulge
in last calls on south shores
doing shots with the parrotheads
warm in the Panhandle.

Deep chill December
the waves play redundantly
in crescendo, then flat lining.

The sun downs her light now
moon shuts her eyes to me

And you, silver gull
flapping your winter wings
sign off for the day
leaving the landline, uniting us

unaware
you’ve deserted me.

###

If I were bird

Four by the park and ride
the construction crew clanking all day
not a safe spot to birth little ones.

Three by Paul’s pizza place;
perhaps they devour the leftovers there.

I like the three at the water’s edge
where the sky and the laurel trees
weave in with leaves, promising privacy.

And if I were bird
that’s where I’d build them
by the bay with the blue moon’s reflection
is where I’d build nests

if I were bird.