Rebecca on the Porch

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By John Grey*

Fog up from lake,
gray reflection,
in its fastness, in your breath,
inspects the delicacy of such
trembling paths
invisible beauty.

It awaits the next time,
nibbled by brisk wakening
of an ancient kind,
of early fall, golden warmth
of purple berry
of your lips.

Wait a moment.

Only women breathe.

Only spiders startle.

__

*John Grey’s work has recently appeared in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review, with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock, and Spoon River Poetry Review.

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