Saves The Day

Fishing

Nothing but fog-behind, in front,
Enveloping every corner of landscape.
Dismal, dreary, drudgy haze. A long morning.
The handmade, misshapen fishing pole trails the ground
Legs stuggle to bend, to move.
The comforting trail of smoke puffing from the stone chimney.
Distance, and the house looks almost inviting.
Lungs burn from the exhertion.
And you're home.

Drudgy

Nose drips, eyes spill and it's only me.
Me and a brooding kettle in the corner.
Kitten is gone- vacant plaid pad, damp fireplace. Vacant ceiling
Walls, floors, bed...
What of it? It's only me.
Forking those icy eggs, sitting
Crossed-legged on the sofa.
Vacant. Vacant bath, scratched tile
Scarred, rusty toilet.
Striped pants and bare feet
Slide under covers. Ah.
What of it? It's only me.
Vacant.