Thursday, June 16, 2022

New Poetry by Mike Dillon










Adagio in April

Young, maybe thirty, 
dark-haired, pretty
as the memory of beauty,
she knelt in the public garden 
weeding between the tulips and blue bells
and looked up before I passed
to cast a dark-eyed smile 
soft as a butterfly wings.
And returned to her work.

Much older, but not all the way,
I saw the beauty of her face rise again,
sure as sunrise. Our eyes blinked 
for a breath-span before she
looked down.
And I went on my way — 
Bede’s sparrow in its brief dash
through the warmth of the mead hall
between two doors wide open
to winter and winter.


- © Mike Dillon 2022


Mike Dillon lives in a small town on Puget Sound northwest of Seattle. His most recent book is a chapbook, The Return, from Finishing Line Press (March 2021). He is a previous contributor to Blue Pepper.

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