Someone wrote “Isaac” on the window this morning.

Every morning I see Maine outside the classroom window.

Whether light of morning lays down its thin gold or a heavy grey stops us from heaven, I still see Maine.

There is a salt-wash, blue shed made of weathered wood, it only has one window. Behind, standing as it always has is a fence, of the same wood…of the same colour.

Every morning I see Maine outside the classroom window.

Sometimes through atlantic tears and sometimes through my own cool hazel. Sometimes field birds fly about, I always think them sea birds. Sometimes field wind blows about, I always think it sea wind.

Every  morning I see Maine outside the classroom window.

I think a wonderful deep is washing a shore behind the blue house. I think long, pale, grass lives a long the ending land…behind the blue house. I think eastern peace is settled behind the blue house.

Every morning I see Maine outside the classroom window.

I know the land goes on, no water. A highway interrupting no sky-meets-water behind the blue house. I know nothing is behind the blue house…only a midwest anxiety.

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1 Comment

Filed under Poetry..., White Parchment

One response to “Someone wrote “Isaac” on the window this morning.

  1. heavenweeps

    I see maine quite often too…
    I miss the sea salt smell, the birds, the hills…
    If life fails me, you’ll know where I ran off to.

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