Door
My front door opens to a load of speed,
of chases, deals, last-minute runs to get supplies
the sun sends baking pushing heat
to hasten what occurs
my back door opens to a yard of blooming weeds
a sneaking rabbit with its bunny eyes
nibbles cautiously, but nibbles, eats
what I think of as mine: she knows it’s hers
Copyright © Robert Temple | Year Posted 2008
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