Creative

Hearth of the Homeless

I used to draw lines--
black tally marks,
tracks on cardboard walls.
Now, I paint pictures--
yellow dragonflies,
red wallflowers,
blue moons.

This morning, I watercolored swans--
drifting swans,
freshwater pearls strung out
on black river pavement
lit by a blue moon
among red flowers
buzzed by dragonflies.

Days pass--
not quickly,
not slowly,
but like kidney stones,
they pass.
My walls bloom thick
in my cardboard home.
My home sweet cozy home.

Tonight, I build a fire
in the hearth tracked in pastels.
Open a bottle of red wine,
curl up in front of flames,
and watch the flowers wither
on one wall, then another.
Watch the ceiling burst open
blowing singed dragonflies into
a blue moon burnt sky.

This night will pass quickly
and I will rest my head
in the ashes of swan feathers,
feeling warm and cozy
as my spirit floats out
on a wake of black tar.

By Peggi Swan.
Peggi Swan is a poet, writer, and artist who lives in the Northwest. Besides writing poetry, she works as a freelance writer. She produces the Backyard Art page for mybackyard.com.