Light, Breaking
Lavender lights the vineyard—
shadows purpling green, tendrils
just beginning to rise.
Your voice still in my heart,
I jog past the fence, the horses,
burnished with dawn.
Day lilies yawn and stretch,
hummingbirds nuzzling sweet centers
of honeysuckle, columbine.
Field furrowed, I shape my thoughts
into such precise rows, ignore
the twinge in my side.
You are ever at the edge
of my vision like a breeze rustling,
tapping the trees. A song
lifting to the clouds, spiraling
into nothingness.
Copyright (c) 2018 by K.B. Ballentine. All rights reserved. Almost Everything, Almost Nothing is K.B. Ballentine’s fifth poetry collection. Her work has been published in Crab Orchard Review, Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, and Carrying the Branch: Poets in Search of Peace, among other literary journals and anthologies. She lives in Chattanooga.
Tagged: Poems
