The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 3/26/08

[BlueIris]

"Sonnet 2"
(From "The Light They Make")

Deep in her seventh month, my sister dozes
afternoons, her voice still dusky on the phone
a thousand miles away. Distance sizzles
in my ear. I want to hear and I don't
want to—about the afghan she's been weaving,
her legs propped up, how new life crowds her heart,
hurts, takes her breath away, even
the crazy cravings all come true. As far
from her as I've ever been, I wait with her
and I wait alone each month. Buds squeeze,
open, batches of birds hatch, this year
as always, regardless, their first notes tweezed
out high in trees. Wisteria bugles—boom—
it blooms. My sister's son is born in June.

—Debra Bruce

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear BlueIris...

Oh, how nice this is!

It captures beautifully both the sisters' waiting...

And the results of their having done so...

Lovely!

Thank you...

:hug:

[BlueIris]

2. Aw, thanks, C-Peg. Everyone, copy off C-Peg's paper.

[BlueIris]

3. Kick.

[BlueIris]

4. Kick.

[BlueIris]

5. Kick. (Because this really goes so nicely with the other one.)