the sky
is a pale bruised canvas
for a convalescent
sun, and the cat
and i lie up
against the space
heater, waiting
for the watery
light of late afternoon
to wander in
through the upstairs
windows. i
am thinking bare-legged
thoughts, dreaming
of sand. he dislikes
the lilac candle,
the smell
of the old coffee.
today is too cold
for outside poems.
even the flies
that settle on
the unborn bodies
of outside poems
are sluggish,
and the cat bats
them down easy.
looking out, we see
power lines and bare
branches over pastel
rooftops. he does
his best cadbury
pose, breaks
my concentration
before the concrete
of the words has set,
leaves his imprint
in their wake.
fitting that it’s three
nights til Easter.
some days we wish
it were May already.
Joanna Suzanne Lee 
Such beautifully worded imagery, and gorgeous Cat too, a pleasure to read and experience… xPenx
Thanks, Pen! 🙂
Awesome!
Thanks!
it will be may soon enough…and outside poems will be born and running around our ankles…
and your legs will know sun and sand…
Yes! That is true, Brian… and my legs could use both 😉
Love the feel of this poem. I am drawn into the surreal drift of spring fever, the languor of an overlong winter. Love the line: breaks my concentration before the concrete of the words has set” Delightful! Hurry up summer!
So much enjoyment in reading this. Inspiring.
This is excellent. Great sense of melancholy captured in your words.
Great..:)
Thank you!
such a great use of the word convalescent
🙂 thanks!
Well done, this is beautifully executed, it slowed me right down:
“even the flies
that settle on
the unborn bodies
of outside poems
are sluggish,
and the cat bats
them down easy.”
PS: I was brought here by “Mirror Obscura”
Thank you! That’s exactly what I was going for. 🙂 I owe a lot of thanks for traffic to Mirror Obscura!