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Bean

Sunday, October 11, 2015. After a dry spell, finally the rain. In late fall, the yard appears stripped. Of color until the hummingbird’s. Scarlet throat catches the just-right. We breakfast together now and again. I with my ceramic mug, she with. Her plastic petals. Yesterday she found. The last passion flower on the vine. And spent some time in the rafters. Below us, the discarded leaves of the. Apple tree spend the day softening. Only to freeze again overnight. And I am reminded of. In trying to forget.

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Bean | krystin-bean.blogspot.com Reviews

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Sunday, October 11, 2015. After a dry spell, finally the rain. In late fall, the yard appears stripped. Of color until the hummingbird’s. Scarlet throat catches the just-right. We breakfast together now and again. I with my ceramic mug, she with. Her plastic petals. Yesterday she found. The last passion flower on the vine. And spent some time in the rafters. Below us, the discarded leaves of the. Apple tree spend the day softening. Only to freeze again overnight. And I am reminded of. In trying to forget.

<META> KEYWORDS

1 at breakfast today

2 light of morning

3 the futility

4 around mine

5 full circle

6 as we pulled

7 mornings

8 other day

9 posted by krystin

10 2 comments

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at breakfast today,light of morning,the futility,around mine,full circle,as we pulled,mornings,other day,posted by krystin,2 comments,the sky sobs,only water knows,no comments,for c,spectacular like,morning brings several,mine or yours,1 comment,rain

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Bean | krystin-bean.blogspot.com Reviews

https://krystin-bean.blogspot.com

Sunday, October 11, 2015. After a dry spell, finally the rain. In late fall, the yard appears stripped. Of color until the hummingbird’s. Scarlet throat catches the just-right. We breakfast together now and again. I with my ceramic mug, she with. Her plastic petals. Yesterday she found. The last passion flower on the vine. And spent some time in the rafters. Below us, the discarded leaves of the. Apple tree spend the day softening. Only to freeze again overnight. And I am reminded of. In trying to forget.

INTERNAL PAGES

krystin-bean.blogspot.com

1

Bean: how i feel this late in june

http://krystin-bean.blogspot.com/2011/06/how-i-feel-this-late-in-june.html

Monday, June 27, 2011. How i feel this late in june. There is cotton in the air. And a softness about us. Like the ears of rabbits. The cottonwoods let go. Their lifted seeds and all day. I remember the smell. Of your shirt in my hands. To think the quiet den. Of my heart was only brush. Until your mouth half opened—. Held my love, your love,. On the tip of the tongue. There is no room to hesitate,. The seeds have settled. I am not the same. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). There is cotton in the air.

2

Bean: since this poem is blue the next will be yellow

http://krystin-bean.blogspot.com/2010/09/since-this-poem-is-blue-next-will-be.html

Thursday, September 16, 2010. Since this poem is blue the next will be yellow. The Hours of Myself and Your Memory. With him gone all day at work,. And your things everywhere,. In the new apartment I am more. Alone than I have been in years. Your quilt over the back of your couch,. Your embroidered cloths in the kitchen,. Your linens, your jewelry,. I hung one of grandpa’s photos. Of you in the entryway. There you are! Trim, in black, a. Fish in one hand,. Your face straight, unreadable, queer. The hours...

3

Bean: june first

http://krystin-bean.blogspot.com/2011/06/june-first.html

Wednesday, June 1, 2011. I want bells of Ireland in a vase. On the table, and a bowl of raspberries. I want to eat raspberries all day. And think of nothing but you—. As if I know who you are, as if I know. Who it is I am missing at all. June 1, 2011 at 11:43 PM. Beautiful, i love the image of a bowl of raspberries, and the feelings it evokes. June 2, 2011 at 1:44 PM. Krys, this is so beautiful. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). In spring, the kerria ate the rose,. There is cotton in the air.

4

Bean: last day of september poem

http://krystin-bean.blogspot.com/2013/09/last-day-of-september-poem.html

Monday, September 30, 2013. Last day of september poem. The lucidity of rain. And now the rains have come. Every time we step outside,. Walking from the restaurant to the car,. Rain spills down your jacket. And into the pockets of your jeans. And I, carrying a sensitivity especially sharp. After the second glass of wine,. Feel envious of the lucidity of rain. How clever, the unruliness of this world. For hours after you leave, your pockets. Will remain damp, but not soiled. A way to hold on.

5

Bean: poem for the end of winter

http://krystin-bean.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-do-i-tell-you.html

Saturday, March 19, 2011. Poem for the end of winter. Late March and the river is high. Things happened that I could not. Control. On my 24. My grandfather fell over and his. Heart stopped beating. Meanwhile. The river rose and flooded the valley,. Bringing swans and black American. Mallards, a great blue heron. Balanced on one leg. They say the moon controls the tides. But God controls the river. I do not. Know God, but sometimes I want. More than anything to be able to pray. Who I will be. So, so lovely.

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Bean

Sunday, October 11, 2015. After a dry spell, finally the rain. In late fall, the yard appears stripped. Of color until the hummingbird’s. Scarlet throat catches the just-right. We breakfast together now and again. I with my ceramic mug, she with. Her plastic petals. Yesterday she found. The last passion flower on the vine. And spent some time in the rafters. Below us, the discarded leaves of the. Apple tree spend the day softening. Only to freeze again overnight. And I am reminded of. In trying to forget.

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