abode

In a house
looking down
where the seagulls 
live by the ocean,
a peeling railing
around the veranda
like a husband’s embrace

On the sand,
she spreads a blanket,
an occurrence separated
by the flow of years, 
once before her children
were born, 
then as a mother,
then, as herself

In the evening chill
walls breathe out sunlight 
to the clatter
of dinner plate,
bowl and spoon, she
listens to 
love songs in solitude, 
the last of the day 
ebbs through windows,
an overlook
where the seagulls
go to sleep on the rocks
and the ocean 
leaves and returns
to the tide’s call


© Jonathan Bohrn (2008)