NaPoWriMo #30

Valley

Home. Home is in the hills.
Among valleys where flora turns
emerald ice dead winter,

Where water tastes of dew from
the strands in a duck’s moustache.

House is the habitat.
Home when breath breathes ‘welcome back’
a ghost-hello, condensing words in air.

‘kettle’s on’, or ‘put kettle on’,
steam: birth of a brew.

The brick and mortar, the
tile and plaster, carpet and cutlery
can be dust

For trusting limbs, natural smiles,
are crux to kitchenware teeth.

.
There goes thirty days of poems. I’ll post an exit strategy tomorrow, but until then keep reading and enjoying.

‘Exit pursued by a bear’,

Fionn Coughlan-Wills.