Peggy Heinrich

Peggy Heinrich

just knowing the velvet feel of pansies without touching
old photos: my father’s face younger than mine
a child on the beach spooning sand in a bucket . . . today the sea is still
humid afternoon across the wooden floor our shadows merge
August twilight removing their shoes to cross the stream
end of summer the shape of his feet in his empty sneakers
fresh sea breeze the mimosa he planted tall enough to wave
frozen puddle faces on an old front page stare through ice
evening news the soothing weight of the quilt
January sunset putting aside her journal to peel an orange

All poems copyright by Peggy Heinrich. They may not be used for any purpose without explicit permission.