Lentils at a rolling boil
and onions caramelizing
while cows lay softly
chewing and ruminating
set behind a beaded
curtain of orange. I sit
stiff-necked with coffee
fresh and tan, too hot
to drink. The red flaming
bush is darker than it was
yesterday, catching
sunlight from behind
a low hill. Some leaves
are the color of a just-right
cosmopolitan, pink and murky,
evoking a low growl
from Protestant ancestors.
It’s dangerous to set
such a precedent, but
this day could be a template.
Anne Graue is the author of Full and Plum-Colored Velvet (Woodley Press, 2020) and Fig Tree in Winter (Dancing Girl Press, 2017). Her poems have appeared in Poet Lore, Gargoyle, Verse Daily, River Heron Review, Unbroken Journal, and Crab Orchard Review. INSTA BSKY
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