come let’s sit
on the front porch
in pink morning air
savor coffee
closeness
hands-over-brows,
we’ll face east
watch lavender clouds rise
over rooftops,
kiss tips of tall trees
then, we’ll set our cups
down on the table
we’ll sand layers
long lacquered
peel off
varnished veneers
down to circles
patterns
of light
and dark grain
expose blankets
of root beds
burls borne
from breakage
and a map of the seasons
we grew without rain
– Sharon Frye
© 2015, poem, Sharon Frye, All rights reserved
The BeZine 
The first lines draw one in immediately and the last three lines make it memorable. Good work here.
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Thank you Jamie. Would welcome you to my front porch anytime…
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🙂 Thank you, Sharon!
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burls borne
from breakage
and a map of the seasons
we grew without rain
lovely last lines…lovely poem
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