The morning

He knocked the carton:
His hand hitting cardboard
And orange concentrate
Spilling. It stained
The table between
clouds, changing the color
Of the rising sun
until he brushed over it
With baby-blue towels. They
Soaked in juice and the
cleaned the world again.

Advertisements

Have an opinion to share?

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